


I Was a King Under Your Control

by kolejnyczlowiek



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Anal Sex, BDSM, Breathplay, Consensual, Consensual Non-Consent, Dom!Alistair, Dom/sub, F/M, Humiliation, Impact Play, Oral Sex, Porn, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Power Play, Some Fluff, unnecessary drama
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-11
Updated: 2018-05-09
Packaged: 2018-08-14 13:02:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 25,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8015065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kolejnyczlowiek/pseuds/kolejnyczlowiek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They knew their ways were not right, that those acts were bringing nothing but pain. They endured the abuse, too deeply bound to the past sweetness that used to surround them, the memory of more innocent times.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A warning for self-harm in this chapter, its nothing graphic tho.  
> \+ The kinky stuff comes in the next chapter.

It has been going for some time now – he would use his position to bring her back, imprison her with his presence and his hands, his lips and his body soon would follow his needs, fueled by tension and anger that had built up inside him. And despite her own desires to make him feel her wrath, despite frustration that he wouldn't take “no”, in the end she would submit, always promising that this was the last time between her heavy breaths of pleads and reliefs. Once they were finished, once _they thought_ they were finished, a time of false apathy would come – silent treatments and shunning, forced formalities as if even in isolation someone was constantly watching. Until he would call for her again and she would obey, never learning and hoping this time would be different.

And neither of them wanted to take the blame. She thought him naive to desire affection no matter how many times she told him she never had any love to give – he was a desperate man, too dependent to let go of someone of those few close people he had still left. He thought her to be a temptress, that she took pleasure in his misery and had been playing him all along – but she was always back, always back to him, never anyone else. Had she been really cruel she would had taken a different man to humiliate him even more, but she never did, as if there was some care remaining within her, feelings he strove to expose.

They knew their ways were not right, that those acts were bringing nothing but pain. They endured the abuse, too deeply bound to the past sweetness that used to surround them, the memory of more innocent times.

There was also something about those violent delights that felt like atonement on rare occasions that they reflected upon their behavior and believed that they had failed – never each other, they were too proud and stubborn to admit either of them were in the wrong in their relationship.

 

Élise had been filing out reports for Anora until late at night. The Warden had no idea whether she should be grateful for the woman for setting up a separate office and a room at the castle or curse for not having a proper excuse to leave this place and don't come back unless the Queen expressed her concern in lengthy letters that wouldn't stop coming until Élise decided to move her ass back to the castle or Anora would pick her up herself.

There were many reasons for that. A friendship, that had formed between them, required that both of them were supportive of each other. Although it was very easy for them to jump from a pleasant small-talk to passive-aggressive remarks and even heated arguments, there was no denying that their similar mindset had allowed them to take comfort in those meetings – be it a dinner, a tea or a walk through the garden.

Anora also claimed to need her for her (oh so helpful) inputs whenever it came to decision making, especially when elves or mages were concerned. But Élise was more likely to believe that the Queen wanted to show off before the nobility, to warm her image as there were still those who mistrusted her and verbalized their displeasure with her leadership. Nevertheless, Élise always answered her questions and would proceed to do so as long as she asked and the matter was close to her heart.

But Élise suspected that the main reason why Anora wanted to keep her close so badly, was to keep the King's sanity in check. It has been no secret that the royal couple's marriage was a failure. They were good rulers, adored by the public and made an effective team when faced with pure business. But behind closed doors they were at war. And funnily enough it had not been always Anora that added oil to the fire despite her pride and the longing after Cailan (no matter how hard she pretended it to be otherwise). It was Alistair who had been childish, refusing to speak with her unless it had been completely necessary, using Teagan as his messenger, demanding him to solve every problem that “Anora had purposely created just to piss him off” - Élise couldn't completely deny those claims but it did not change the fact that the Queen at least tried to compromise while Alistair avoided her like the plague.

So Alistair would complain to Teagan, Teagan would complain to Anora on his behalf, Anora would complain to Élise about Alistair for being so stubborn and on Teagan for contributing to the problem (although if not Teagan, he would surely find someone else to pass the messages around) and Élise would end up complaining to Alistair about all of them, where she also promised, every time, that this little circle of pettiness was over once she was free to leave his chamber after he was finished with her.

Élise held her fingers up to her temples, feeling the headache coming at a mere thought of those repeatable nights. She moved the papers to the side, putting her quill away and letting her hair free from a leather string. She looked around for a cup of tea but its coldness had been anything but inviting – it was not uncommon for her to abandon everything around her once she was caught up in work, pity as the tea had been one of few enjoyable things at the castle.

Hearing the knocking on the door she whined, putting a bottle of wine she managed to find just now, under the desk. Before she could sit back in her chair and pretend to be very occupied (it worked well when she had something insignificant to throw against the wall), Teagan walked into the room, still fully clothed and hair neatly combed, his tiredness showing only in dark circles under his eyes. He seemed out of breath as he held onto the door, looking at the Warden worryingly. She'd feel sorry for the man if it hadn't been for her own exhaustion.

“What is it?”

“Alistair locked himself again.”

This came to her as no surprise, he did that often when he had one of his moods. He'd spend the day or night alone in his room, rarely responding to calls from behind the door. They've been scared first time it had happened, and couple more times afterwards. So much that they just cut through the wood only to find Alistair lying in his bed, snoring contently with empty bottle of alcohol on his nightstand. After some time, they learned that he would eventually open the door himself, walking out of his room as if nothing had happened and looking as perfectly as he always did before the court. But besides that, Élise knew little of those incidents, she'd never been there to personally witness it. She doubted there was any connection between Alistair's drunken episodes and her absence at the castle, especially that she voluntarily settled in this office for days now instead of going back to Wardens' quarters.

She did not understand, though, why would Teagan come for her when he seemed to deal with Alistair just fine at times like this.

Nevertheless she got up, pulling a dressing-gown onto her shoulders, knowing that her white shirt wouldn't be enough against the stone walls as the rain was pouring and wind was blowing violently outside.

“How is this different? Had something happened that made him this upset?”

Teagan halted half-way through the corridor and looked at Élise with pained expression. This was unusual, even for him.

“Upset might be... an understatement,” the man sighed and continued talking, heading slowly towards Alistair's chamber. “The court is afraid that Alistair will end up making the same mistake as Cailan and Ferelden once again will be left without a king if he does not provide an heir soon. He has been unnerved, to say at least, that I've been somewhat wary of leaving him on his own.”

“How do I fit in this?”

“He asked for you.”

Élise was both too speechless that he would ask for her so openly right after discussing such matters with nobility and too afraid of what answer she might get if she asked of his reasoning behind requesting her presence. Surely Alistair was not this naive to believe she could make every mean noble shut his mouth and turn his eyes away from him – even she did not have such power despite how intimidating she could make herself appear. Particularly in this situation when she could not help but agree with the court on that matter.

Teagan knocked on the door informing the King of her presence. They heard soft clinking of keys in the lock as Alistair asked for them to be left alone. His voice was rough and weak, turning Élise's stomach into a ball of painful knots as she imagined what she was to witness inside. Teagan, without any objections, backed off, and with final farewell nod of his head towards her, a sound relief could be heard echoing as he turned around and left. The Warden suspected that the man knew of the nature of their friendship, they've been hardly subtle during their stay in Redcliffe while the Blight was still happening. She did not know why he kept this a secret when his brother was quite honest about his satisfaction once the end of the wardens' relationship became obvious, but then again Teagan did not hold the same position as Eamon and hence his priorities were different and mind much more open.

Élise pushed the door and closed it behind her gently. Her eyes began to scan the dark room in a search for the man. In the shadows a golden crown glistened as the moon's light hit its surface. She reached for it and despite her lack of interest and knowledge about expensive metals, she was able to tell that this crown was more than a shiny decoration but also a symbol that probably should not be thrown onto the ground in such manner.

Once in her possession, she felt a sticky pitch black liquid it left on her fingers and as soon as she turned her gaze on Alistair who sat on the bed with his head hanging down and hands wrapped clumsily with a thin fabric, any of her doubts were dispelled.

“Don't bring it near me,” he whispered as she stepped towards him. Not wishing to disturb him any further she put the crown away on a table first before sitting down next to Alistair.

She took his hands into hers and slowly unwrapped the cloths. His cuts were not serious but they were deep and not very sharp, it only proved that the amount of force he put as he held the crown was purposely strong enough to hurt him and draw blood.

She wiped his skin and pressed her palms to his, a weak blue light escaped her fingertips and traveled to his wounds, healing them effectively without leaving any scars.

Noticing his furrowing brow and pouting lips she brought a hand towards his cheeks and moved it along his head, smoothing his tousled hair. Alistair suddenly burst into tears, hiding his face between her breast he sobbed into her shirt, his arms embracing her waist for support.

“I can't do this. I don't want this. I've never wanted this.”

Élise shushed him softly as she stroke his back, trying to withstand under his heavy, shaking form.

This reaction was rather unexpected, she barely remembered anymore how enjoyable it had been to hold each other so tightly and innocently at the same time, she forgot how her face felt when she did not force it into a mask devoid of emotions. She thought both of them were past the mutual honesty and care, that anything humane in their relationship was gone.

But it made her heart to tear apart even more as she listened to Alistair's cries and knowing that she was partially responsible. She had pressured him to accept Eamon's offer, aware that none of this was going to bring them happiness. But perhaps they were never meant to be if it took the sacrifice of their love to save this godforsaken country.

Élise shivered at the touch of Alistair's wet lips brushing her neck. She was glad for the shadows covering her blush as he slowly fell to his knees, prying her legs apart. His kisses were short, barely touching the sensitive skin of her chest. His hands sneaked under her shirt and grabbed the waistband of her pants. Pulling onto it he looked at her with plead in his eyes, his nose affectionately pressing in between her breasts.

Melting under his gaze and needy touches, she put her knee in the air and helped him push her clothes down, gasping sharply as cold breeze grazed her cunt. Instinctively she wanted to close her legs to protect her womanhood from the harsh air and Alistair's intense stare but his head was in the way, buried within her, tracing wet lines with his lips on her inner thigh.

She breathed deeply, unable to keep her composure as he observed her with those amber eyes, studying her every move, though Élise doubted he had ever forgotten how to drive her insane and begging for his touch. She surely did forget how it felt, which only turned her more impatient as she awaited him to bring his attention to her private parts.

She whined quietly as he finally parted her folds with his tongue, kissing her lips with devotion and care.

It had been a long time since they were intimate this way. They were too lost in animalistic greed and lust to take their time for affections. There was also an issue with her reluctance to get his hopes up by allowing herself this bit of a weakness and he was afraid of hurt and rejection if he brought too much feelings into sex.

His current actions reminded her so much of their first kisses, how he had leaned forward shyly, ready to back off the moment he heard or saw any sign of protest, how tender he was at first, getting used to the feel of her lips. And how sweetly he deepened the kiss, his body pressing into hers, making her ache for him even more despite his own purity that showed in his every move.

Alistair sucked finely her vulva, his tongue pressing on her sensitive nub, forcing a loud and long moan out of her. Her legs fell from his shoulders, her toes curling under the pressure. She reached for his hands that still rested on her sides, and slid one of them down. Alistair, upon realizing her intentions, pulled away, giving her enough space to maneuver his fingers inside her hole. Holding his wrist down she rode him, an act that she considered quite bold and which quickly embarrassed her, making her unable to look any longer into the King's shining eyes.

His unoccupied hand pushed through the fabric of her shirt and cupped her breast carefully. His thumb then began stroking her nipple, annoyingly slow as he hoped to see her correcting him this eagerly again.

“I have finally understood that I do not care about our past mistakes. I tried to hate you, I truly did. But I just cannot bring myself to… And I cannot live without you. It's like I'm losing my breath every time you're nowhere near me.”

Élise could not answer him. The pace he set up for his fingers as he pushed her hand away and kissed her clit again, permitted her to voice only mewls and cries for more. She wished to tell him the same, how she had been longing after him the moment she had realized she had to let him go. How hard it had been to fight those desires and that she always had found so much pleasure in her failures that drove her right into his arms.

She grabbed the collar of his jacket and pulled him up.

“Kiss me” she mouthed desperately as if they had no time left in this world.

He obliged, like he always did and perhaps if she had asked him then to jump into fire he would do so as well. He'd do anything, “anything to make you happy, my love.” As long as he could be a part of her life, as long as she belonged to him.

She opened her mouth, thirsty for his taste. He was truly delicious with their flavors mixed.

She fell back, her hands twisted into his hair and not letting to as they were engaged in intense kisses and his fingers still working dutifully inside her. Blinded by delight of his skillful mouth and hands, she reached between their bodies, down where his crotch hovered just above hers. She tugged his leather belt, making the access to the slit in his pants easier. After her hands dived into his smalls only to find his cock already hard for her she could not help but form a wide smile.

Alistair slid his arms out of his jacket and threw it away, ready to get back to pleasuring his lover, but it seemed she had other ideas as she pushed his shirt up, her eyes flickering at the sight of his chest. She traced his muscles with fingers like a worship, licking her lips, unable to decide what to do with his beautiful body. She wished to kiss every part of his skin, every curve of his muscle and every scar. She wanted to smell nothing but the scent of his sweat as he pounded into her and observe his abdomen flexing teasingly. She wanted something, _anything_ , she _needed it_ , right now.

She brushed the hair above his crotch, trying to slither lower and be able to kiss his torso. Her hand was already wrapping around his cock but he grabbed her wrists and put them above her head. She whined, trying to grind against him for some kind of relief.

“You may hate me, you may curse me, you may abuse me but Maker… You have no idea how much I love you.”

She trembled as he licked her neck.

“Not there.”

“I want them to see.”

Before she could object one more time, he pushed his fingers into her mouth, observing her bruised lips wrapping around them swiftly while he was sucking and biting her slender throat. He could feel the vibrations of her moans, making him wonder how much more pleasant she'd sound gagged completely, hoping that he comprehends her prayers and leads her to her release.

“Fuck me.”

Alistair neared his face to hers, feeling the warmth of her flushed cheeks and quick sharp breaths.

He lay down, without fear of crushing her, he knew she was able to take much more than that (so much more). He cupped her face softly and stared into her dark eyes, feeling his penis twitch at the sight of her despair. She was just so beautiful – most beautiful when she needed **him**.

“Please.”

With a final chaste kiss he rose, keeping himself up in the air with his extended arm as his hand reached for his cock. Without any hurry and paying no mind to Élise impatiently writhing beneath him, he pushed her wet folds apart and rubbed his cock along her cunt before he sunk in, slowly, smirking against her lips playfully.

Her mouth formed into a circle as he stretched her wider the further he pushed. It was almost painful as he sheathed himself fully in, but a tear that left her eye was that of happiness and disbelief that she was able to feel something this amazing once again.

Her nails drove into his shoulders and her lips brushed his earlobe as she moaned quietly his name accompanied by sharp pants whenever his tip would reach her cervix. As he sped up his pace gently he gazed into her eyes, mesmerized by her blissful expression. He twisted her light hair around his fingers, holding her head lovingly. As she bit her lip to quiet the noises she was making, he pulled harshly, forcing her mouth to open with a whimper.

She blushed, her cheeks burning from embarrassment that such action could feel this good. This was new to her and it surprised the Warden that Alistair would even decide to do so, perhaps in other circumstances this could be considered disturbing. Yet she enjoyed the thrill of the sudden roughness to his touches. Élise run her nails down his spine. Timidly she grasped his hips and pushed herself forward to create more friction.

“Did you miss me? Ever? Did you miss me when you pushed me away?”

Alistair slowed down, supporting himself above her with a perfect view on her arched body.

“I… I need… Please...” she tried coaxing him into continuing his ministrations. Upon receiving none of his attention besides a shameless stare, she sneaked her hand between their joined bodies and rubbed her clit impatiently.

Displeased with her doings, Alistair caught her arm and shoved it off to the side.

“Do you want to come, my love?” Élise nodded her head eagerly in response. “Then tell me, did you miss me?”

“Yes! Maker, yes. I need you so much.”

He smiled sweetly, leaning down to capture her lips. Without a warning he pushed his cock into her, hard and deep, ignoring her momentary frown at the painful impact. The faster he slammed his pelvis against hers, the more she seemed to relax as she lead his hands towards her breast, begging him for a touch.

Noticing in her loud cries of adoration and praise in his name he knew she was nearing her finish. He embraced her tightly, his own composure lost as well as he began thrusting erratically.

He ejaculated inside her, allowing himself to release all of his moans he tried to keep down for the sake of being able to hear nothing but her.

 

As some time passed, he felt himself being pushed onto a side and a sudden loss of heat. He observed Élise climbing out of bed clumsily, bent forward from the soreness between her legs. He would reach out for her if it weren't for his limp body. So he just stayed how she left him, watching her cautiously putting her clothes back on. She did not dare to look at him back and something began to ache inside him. He wasn't sure if it was his desire to see her face again, to know whether he made some kind of mistake or not. Maybe he ached for her to turn around on her own, to be able to lie beside him without any need of argumentation from him.

But he was sure of two things.

The first thing he was sure of was that he despised her coldness, how she played “pretend” once the deed was over. And he could make people talking (although he was sure that there already been many rumors surrounding them) but she still would deny to admit the truth.

And if she genuinely did stop loving him, he thought he would have understood. He'd learn to accept the pain after some time and proceeded in another search for happiness. But she had twisted the past, claimed that whatever he had imagined to be between them had been a lie. And that was something he simply couldn't accept. Not when he had her body writhing under him, desperate for him and his love just seconds ago.

The second thing he was sure of was that she would be back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Christ, the ending was a pain in the ass to write. I hate the after-sex scenes.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *writes 4 pages of useless stuff*  
> *adds a paragraph with sex*  
> This fanfiction is purely for porn, I swear.

A knot inside her stomach did not disappear after that night nor a morning after. She carried its weight through the day, relentlessly ignoring the sharp pain in her chest that soon followed. Her anxiety had been truly unjustified as she herself forgot how many times she had undressed before the mirror and scanned her skin for any marks that could betray recent activities. Even her neck, that suffered the most, had been fair and bruise-less, yet she could have sworn that there were still noticeable yellow and pink spots, remnants from Alistair's kisses, though it was but the light playing tricks on her along with the guilt.

The true horror came as Anora (finally) found her in the library where she hid from suspicious eyes – a result of her own strange behavior. The Queen was followed by one of the elven servants carrying a silver plate with a kettle of warm tea and biscuits. Élise hardly managed to fight the nauseous feeling at the sight of food and Anora's subtle smile the Warden found right now very similar to the one Leliana would give their enemies before slicing their throat and… was that a knife resting next to a bowl of apples?

She sat down across the Queen, afraid of her shaking legs giving up before the other woman. That would be just embarrassing, perhaps even more that her sweaty forehead and pale skin.

“Are you alright?”

“Absolutely. Yes.”

Élise bit her tongue too late and before she could correct herself, Anora pressed a hand to her cheek. “You're burning,” she said, pulling away and turning towards the servant to ask for help.

“That won't be necessary.”

“Are you sure?”

She nodded in response, reaching for a kettle. She had no intention of drinking or eating anything really, but she needed to occupy herself with something that would allow her to keep her from looking into Anora's eyes.

Reluctantly sending the elf away, she turned her attention to Élise, obviously worried by her physical state.

“What' wrong?” she whispered, shifting towards the Warden although they seemed to be completely alone.

“Nothing,” _besides your husband fucking me like never before and making me beg for i_ _t (and me liking it)_ , she thought, not daring to voice any of it. Not when she came to a final decision this was not happening again and this time she was positive of her assertiveness. He wanted to make her feel bad for abandoning him, make her so lovesick that she would crawl back to him. Yet it was too risky, especially now when nobility appeared to watch him closely, she wished he understood that. “But there must be a reason why you searched the whole castle for me.”

“I-I did not…! I'm just good at getting information. It is not like anyone here is exactly subtle.” Élise swallowed nervously, her shaking hand stirring her drink with soft clinking. “Sometimes I swear I can hear the cooks gossiping when I'm in the study. I think we might have a chance soon to best Orlais in tittle-tattle. It can be useful, of course, but,” Anora took a sip of her tea, relaxing in a chair as other woman's body tensed even more “it gets annoying when that is all the nobles can talk about. And then they try to get you involved, as if this country hadn't had enough problems already.”

The Warden observed her reflection in the amber surface, warily watching out for any anomaly in her facial expression that could give the Queen any ideas. But the woman seemed preoccupied in complaining about arls and counts who spent most days trying to out-scream each other who was most important to receive support first after the damage caused by darkspawn – instead, of course, thinking of actual solutions. No, this was a job for Grey Wardens; whose current number was three out of which one was missing and the other was a king. Not to mention the trouble with finding new recruits – after encountering darkspawn in person, few people wished to face them yet again and then there was a matter of those who were able to wield a sword and those who weren't.

Élise would yell out of frustration if she was listening to Anora at all.

She was more interested in the tea's color, color the same as Alistair's eyes. It shimmered under the candlelight every time her finger shook. She could smell its intoxicating sweetness traveling deep into her lungs; sweet like the perfume servants left in Alistair's wardrobe, which immersed the fabrics into its scent. And it lingered for days, often hooking onto others like a ghostly touch. And it made her even more nauseous: both the sickening sweetness and a thought of Alistair's clothes, their beautiful smell that seemed to sink into his skin as she tried to uncover him for her own eye's pleasure. It made her feel uneasy to step before him in simple clothes she always wore, sometimes dripping with mud and water after rainy day. And as much as she despised the title, the crown and the throne – he was glorious and it made her wonder: why would he even had willingly touched her before, aware that he was worth so much more?

Those were dangerous thoughts, she knew, snapping suddenly. Silence came to her ears. There was awkwardness hanging in the air as she watched Anora wriggling in her seat. But the Queen's eyes were fixated on something behind the Warden, something that made the woman frown in discontent and push her chest forwards like a lion ready to charge at any time.

Élise stilled the moment she felt a pressure of someone's hand on the back of her chair. The closeness made her inhale deeply, only her gaze wandered off to the side discretely where she heard fabrics shifting.

And then it hit her, the sweet smell and a shadow cast by his broad posture.

“Élise, do you have a moment?”

By the Maker, he looked handsome that day. There was healthy redness to his cheeks and lips, his smug expression was adorned by the light, round like a halo; and it fitted him more than the crow that was missing from his tousled hair (he had combed them after that night, hadn't he? _Hadn't he?_ ). She was not surprised to not see it, she knew it would be gone for some time after all that had happened.

Her legs trembled, ready to stretch and follow him wherever he wanted to take her. It would be so easy to just grab his sleeve and go blindly, leaving no explanations, only rumors for everyone to feed on.

But she made herself a promise and she knew that if she could not keep it that day then she would be forever lost; and in front of the Queen as well.

“I can't.”

_We can't._

“Excuse me?”

“I said I can't,” she repeated, more weakly than before, getting up on her feet and pushing past him towards the exit “I'm busy. I have to go.”

It was hard to ignore his voice, distressed at first by her indifference towards him (gods, if he only knew). His orders grew louder and more demanding the farther she went, the more she left him behind – something that should had been done in the first place.

Élise wiped off a tear from her eye as she heard him call her name for the last time before she shut the door – calling her name in the same manner like the night he heard she had never truly loved him.

But Maker, how much she loved him.

 

 

The Warden-Commander stood at the top of the stairs. Exhaling sharply into cold air resulted in creating fleeting clouds that did not truly give away how much she was freezing. She observed the recruits before her, who sparred without any thought to the weather, the intense exercise warming up their bodies. Intense, as even picking up a sword that fell to the ground for tenth time, made them sweat. She hissed in annoyance at the man who slipped on a puddle of mud the moment his sparring partner hit his shield too strongly – good for him but not much for his fallen friend. She screamed at the first man to pull himself together as he whined on his hurting buttocks.

Élise started reconsidering the idea of asking the Queen to allow her into Denerim's prison. It was dangerous, of course, but she wasn't really helpless now, was she? She was sure to find someone able bodied whose chances of surviving the joining were higher than none. Because the way things looked right now, she might have as well dealt with a whole army of darkspawn on her own and still be more successful. Even the soldiers Anora had lent her to help with the training, were doing poor job; and incompetence wasn't an issue there – they just had nothing to work with.

The Warden clutched the coat tighter around her body, stepping from one foot to another. The recruits perhaps noticed her discomfort as many of them stopped suddenly and fell silent. But they quickly turned their attention to the main gate, a whispery noise spread through the training grounds and Élise could not help but step down a few steps and look at the figure getting closer.

She grunted at the sight of Alistair and the effect he had on the recruits – some of them put their heads down in respect, others were left speechless at his unexpected appearance, and then there were also those who tried their best in defeating the dummy to impress the King.

“Get back to work!” she screamed at the top of her lungs and glaring at the men dangerously. Fortunately they knew better that to get on her nerves, especially in a presence someone like a king, and immediately rushed to resume their sparring session.

Because of the loud crashing of metal against metal she was unable to hear Alistair's steps, she only saw him with a corner of her eye and even that she considered too much. She ignored his presence, making it clear that she had no time for him right now (nor ever). She did not flinch when he wrapped his fingers firmly around her wrist and brought his mouth to her ear saying “I need you inside, now.”

She bit her lip at the sound of his demanding voice and the warmth of his body as he stood so close to her. But she backed off, trying to be smart and wriggled her hand out of his. He grasped it again, harder this time, and pulled her farther from the recruits and towards the building. She followed, not wishing to cause a scene as she noticed many eyes watching them cautiously.

“Can you at least let go of me?”

He did so while pointing at the door and blocking her from going back to her recruits, with his body.

Obediently she walked before him, like a humiliated pup, shivering from a loss of heat. Would it be wrong to ask him for an embrace? Just once and for a short while, without any promises and expectations.

She remembered how often she had used to sneak to his tent and under his covers while they traveled together, even before they had an established relationship (as much as two people could establish a relation while aware of their inevitable fate). She would not dare to touch him at first, taking comfort in his presence and hoping it would keep the nightmares away. And as things they had experienced on their travels got them closer, so did their proximity at night. She would carefully hold onto his hand, like a child clings to its parent when the shadows are too dark. And even when her dreams were still filled with terror she would open her eyes and see his subtle frown as he brushed her unkempt hair off her face, later kissing her worries away – and she would know, even if the Archdemon was roaming the skies, that she was safe.

When had they given up on it? It felt like ages to her.

The Warden slowed down, fighting the urge to turn around and wrap her arms around him and plead that they forget about this, about everything and just escape, go somewhere when they could start anew. Funny how desperate she became once he had offered her a bit of content. But it also scared her; that he knew perfectly what she desired and how to lure her to him.

And she let him.

Alistair pressed his hand to her lower back, pushing her encouragingly towards her chambers and she hesitated in her steps as a realization of his intentions hit her. She turned around, facing him shyly, almost cowering before his intimidating glare. She touched his chest and his eyes softened until she spoke. “We can talk here.”

Alistair sighed, looking around. Finding the empty corridor insufficient, he opened the door, dragging her behind him. “I'd rather we have more privacy.”

Her bedroom was only few meters away through the study but they remained on the side of the room. She should had been relieved that he actually seemed to wish to only speak with her, but she knew better than to underestimate him once he was provoked. And he had proven to be unpredictable enough to make her feel unrest – but not a kind of unrest where she would be afraid of her life, no. She was more afraid of hurting him. Which could be possible by looking at his somewhat upset expression.

He paced around the room, trying to find proper words, glancing at her but shying from her eyes as he noticed her own nervousness. “I don't know what else to do. I thought I have done everything I could but you,” she was not sure if it was accusation towards her or disappointment with his own actions. “You just keep pushing me away. I have done everything you asked me for!”

“What are you talking about?”

“Think of all those things I did for you. You asked that we are not public with our affections and I had respected your word. You asked that I become a king and I did. You asked I marry Anora and I have married her. You asked me to let **him** live and I have agreed. And then you tell me you don't love me, you avoid me and treat me like a fool – no matter if we're alone or before the court, or before the Queen. What have I done to deserve it? Answer me and I will atone however you wish.”

He left her speechless, astonished upon realization of his words.

He truly thought she required him to do those thing as manifestation of his love. And perhaps he saw it as a test when she had declared her feeling to be false instead of just seeing through her lies. She was angry in that moment that she had been so reckless, tempting him with her own displays of weakness as she crumbled under his touch.

“I did what I had to, to protect Ferelden. I did not want this either but it was necessary. Do you not see what I had to sacrifice as well to make you a king?”

His watery eyes flickered as his brows furrowed at her words. The color she saw earlier, was gone from his face, only his lips remained red as he bit onto them, observing her is if he finally understood.

He shifted under her touch when she had unintentionally reached for him, her feelings taking charge once more. So she let go, waiting for him to move and leave the room. She thought that ending things this way would be rather bittersweet – a mixture of peace and longing the moment she couldn't feel his warmth. An ending that wasn't too bad, but surely too late.

Suddenly his hand wrapped around her neck, supporting her jaw and forcing the Warden to look into his eyes. His body leaned forward and in response she stepped backwards until they were pressed to the stone wall.

“Élise, be honest with me.”

His hands sneaked under her coat and pushed it down along with her leather jacket. She shivered from the cold and his fingers stroking her shoulders.

“Alistair, please, we can't-”

“No,” he cut her off along with a thumb over her mouth. “You wanted a king, therefore you will address me as such.” He slid his hands down, onto her breast, expressing only a sigh of content as he felt she was not wearing anything underneath her shirt, and her nipples hardened immediately once he brushed them. “As your king I want you to be completely honest with me… About things you feel or wish of me. But you also got me thinking. Perhaps now is a time that I tell you what I want?”

She breathed deeply in anticipation, slowly analyzing his words as she was too overwhelmed by emotions. She awaited some kind of sign from him – a touch or an order. The tension was driving her insane; she was on a verge of throwing him out for his audacity or pulling him closer and never letting go. She had often felt conflicted but this was new, and whatever she was going to choose, she knew she would face the consequences.

And she was becoming powerless once again.

“What do you want of me… my lord?”

In every other situation, Élise would probably laugh at the idea. She had little respect for authority, and he was too timid to take control to this extend. But this was no game if it made her whimper at the ache between her legs.

“Turn around first and take off your pants.”

Clumsily she followed his order, growing even more anxious as she felt his gaze burning into her backside. She smiled softly at the memory as he had suggested, or at least tried to, taking her from behind for the first time. This was not a secret in their camp that Alistair had much liking for her arse, something she found absolutely astonishing, but after spending some time among the humans, she supposed that males just had some kind of preference for wide hips. She must have appeared endowed enough with her small frame then, if he had insisted of “having her back” always while they were on the road. Maker knew why he had tripped so often on their way to Orzammar.

The moment she pulled onto the pants and uncovered her hips, his hands were on her skin – fondling, clutching, massaging and scratching. As she shoved her clothing lower and lower, she bent forward, leaving her ass in the air for him to cherish. She smirked at the sound of a loud exhale as Alistair pushed her cheeks apart and was able to set his eyes on her glistening pussy. His forefinger reached between her folds and stroke her clit. He moved smoothly over her holes, driving quiet moans out of her. Impatiently, he undid his belt and loosen the slit to pull out his cock. With one of his fingers inside her he began to move his hand wrapped around his shaft, making himself harder and ready to take her. He observed her crimson face, admiring the sweat around her temple, half-closed eyes and the way she was sucking onto the corner of her bottom lip.

He took his finger away to make a space for his manhood and pushed into her, holding onto her behind.

“Oh...”

She arched slightly at the impact, calling out his name helplessly and searching for some kind of support from him as her head was starting to feel dizzy. He embraced her, putting his arm around her waist and running his other hand down her tight.

She bent her leg as he grasped her firmly underneath her knee and lifting it up along with her. He held her close as he started moving inside her, slowly, to check if she was being comfortable. Kissing her jaw gently, he brushed some hair away with his nose and breathed heavily “is it good?”

“Yes,” she mouthed, reaching behind her to get hold of his hair.

Positive that they were completely stable, he moved the other arm towards her breast. To her displeasure he did not stop there but wandered onto her neck. She swallowed feeling him applying the pressure on her delicate throat and subconsciously gripped his wrist. Noticing he had no intentions of stopping she began to panic, but any of her protests were cut off by hard and sudden thrusts.

And as she was to open her mouth and order him to stop, he let go.

She was confused, mostly, at his crazy act and much less scared. She was wary, of course, the moment she knew breathing would only become harder, but she did not believe that Alistair would hurt her. No, he seemed to know perfectly what he was doing to her and how she felt.

His clutch started tightening once more, but this time it was firmer and longer. Élise inhaled sharply between her cries as he pushed inside her faster. But he loosened her grip around his hand, trusting him a bit more now. And just like before, he observed her for any kind of struggle to release in a right moment.

The third time she understood he was gradually getting her used to the experience. Experience she found… oddly enjoyable.

“Do you like _this_?” he asked and proceeded to choke her harder than before.

She was becoming pleasantly numb, feeling so full of him alone and losing awareness of the surroundings. She gasped for air to free herself from the pressure in her lungs and suppressed moans. But Élise was not afraid, she thought she'd never felt safer as he kept her close and under complete control. She forgot how nice it felt to abandon all worry, allow to be cared for instead to be the one who cared.

She wanted to shake her head and scream out loud how much she liked it, how amazing he made her feel. But he moved too quickly inside her, taking her strength away and if it weren't for his arm, she'd surely fall.

Élise cried out his name one he finally loosened his grip. His arm slid to her waist to push her harder onto his cock. She held the wall for support with one hand, while the other reached her clit and rubbed roughly her nub. Tears welled up in her eyes while he thrust into her for the final times and spilled inside her rapidly.

He pulled out carefully, trembling under the pleasure. She was warm and soft, and he wished for nothing else but to remain with her, but he had to be mindful of her weak body. He reached under her legs that had given up long before, and picked her up. He cradled her gently as he walked towards a chair, where he later seated her comfortably.

Élise observed with hazy eyes as he searched the room for a blanket. She closed her sore legs to cover her vulva as her back hurt too much for her to reach for her pants. As she felt Alistair's embrace around her and a cotton cover on her shoulders, she smiled sweetly, glad that she had him to tend to her. Although she did not think he'd settle himself next to her and take his time to pull her boots off along with her bottom clothing – something she found strange until his hands were placed upon her pained muscles and started rubbing along her legs.

She blushed at this unexpected intimacy and the delicate fondness in his touches. And as he looked at her with unbearable amounts of affection, she could not help but hide her face under the blanket, like a chaste lass.

Alistair chuckled at her antics, his fingers getting dangerously closer to her private areas. He lowered his head, brushing her skin with his stubble teasingly, before sucking mildly on her flesh. She sighed at the feeling of his skillful tongue, astonished that he could switch so quickly between pure lust, innocence and sensuality.

He asked “is there anything else you want,” as he pulled away but leaving his hands to roam over her legs, purposefully avoiding any contact with her womanhood to observe her face frowning in annoyance at his taunts.

Élise reached towards him and grabbed the collar of his shirt to get him closer.

They were already in too deep. She was scared of what was to come, because she knew that no matter what she was going to lose. But she was simply too weak and too in love to back out and go on without him. Just as she hoped he had found himself in too much need of her, however selfish this sounded.

So she kissed the smirk off his face, caressing his hair, his shoulders and his chest, unable to believe that he was once again hers. For how long? This was none of her concern right in that moment. She would cherish what she could get.

She touched his lips once again, inhaling the sweetness, the sweat and the cold air that entered through the cracks in the windows and the doors.

Élise opened her mouth slightly, whispering before she would draw Alistair closer for another kisses, sending a shiver down their spines like a promise of future excitements.

“My King.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao an update
> 
> 17-08-03: Just letting you guys know I'm working on chapter 4 and that I'm not abandoning this fic. I'm just busy with other stuff.

Silence was overwhelming at the moment. Disrupted only by the water filling a bathtub, stirred by Élise’s legs opening and closing ever so slightly. She watched her wet skin with a strange feeling of unfamiliarity. She wondered if she should put the blame on her paranoia or simply the way she was living now. The lack of any bruising and scratches from fighting or traveling still seemed wrong on her, although she was sheltered for most of her live before the Blight; the comfort and safety should not be foreign concepts to her. Yet those faded scars and forgotten feeling of hurt reminded her how different her live had once been.

As she remembered the two years that she had spent on the road, sometimes walking in thick layers of darkspawn blood for days, sleeping on hard and cold ground, consuming whatever had been close at hand, worrying about the many sounds at night coming from the dark. But the enjoyment brought by tranquility of those places they traveled through had been just enough to repay for the inconveniences. There had been more to life than disapproving stares of nobles and pressure to satisfy everyone’s little whine. She had friends, a _family_ , a goal. Everything had a flavor – fighting over a sleeping spot, drunken laughters in a tavern, arguing over where the money went, a confidence of having a support, a shoulder to lean on after exhausting battle and all the clothing, weaponry and potions mixed together in a space that belonged to them all and unspoken rules.

Now her mouth was filled with acrimony of wine and nausea as she heard their indiscreet whispers.

Élise rose instantly, deaf to her mabari hound circling the door, which had been alarmed by the familiar scent and the sound of a turning knob. As He entered, the dog barked in a demand of attention and jumping forward playfully. Mabari’s enthusiasm was rewarded by a pat on its head and words of praise before it stormed off to the bathroom at the inquiry: “Where’s your mistress?”

The woman grabbed a robe for a hanger and hid her body from the treacherous hound whose barks led the man to the entrance. He stood in the door frame, looking around at the mess of her clothes, the water spilled and dripping onto the floor, as well as the robe which infuriatingly refused to set properly on her body, either getting stick to her skin or sliding off.

“I’m sorry, I must have disturbed you.”

“I was finished anyway.”

Clumsily fixing the robe, she hurried towards the wardrobe which stood empty except for a couple of simple clothing; her Warden gear had to had been abandoned somewhere in a dark corner of the room.

It would be deemed appropriate to invest in more fancy outfits or bring some over from her official living quarters, but she knew this would be a first step at moving into the castle. She was already regretting having so many books and documents here, an excuse to come to this place more often than she would like to. Perhaps tomorrow she will ask someone to carry her things back to the Warden’s Compound.

“Should I leave you alone?”

“It’s fine.”

_What? No._

Élise bit her tongue as she reluctantly held onto her shirt. She had barely any guts to dress in front of him when they had been traveling together and they couldn’t exactly afford much privacy. She wasn’t sure if it had been self-consciousness buried deeply in her since she was a girl in the Circle or simply the awkwardness of the situation. It was not exactly a good time for being a tease (something she believed Alistair was better at, anyway). Not before she knew the reason why he came.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Alistair raised a brow as he paced slowly around the room, examining the modest decor around him with a sign of sentimentality. Maybe he missed that too…

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“So your tantrum during the gathering was nothing?”

“I’ve simply wished my opinion to be clear to the court.”

He rubbed his face letting out a tired sigh, leaning against a drawer for support.

Alistair was a different man at that moment, lacking his natural glow and warmth. The rich shirts and shoes did not match him, golden threads and buttons too contrasting with his grey skin and tangled hair after a sleepless night. The sweet perfume was overtaken by a faint scent of alcohol she was sure he tried to drown his bitterness with. There was nothing majestic about the image of him sitting in a corner of his room, pouring another glass; if he had bothered to use a glass at all. Some would call it pathetic – an image of no one else but a jester in a crown, and he couldn’t even crack a joke.

But in her eyes he was so brave, so patient and selfless despite the many times she told him to look out for himself more. Could it be, that standing up to her made him that much stronger? And although she knew he made some mistakes (who didn’t?) and that he still had been able to stomp in displeasure, she admired him.

Because she had given up many times before: after Ostagar when everyone was dead, when they had risked their lives to make some use of the Treaties, as arl Eamon had spoken the truth of Alistair’s father and as he had been made a king. And Alistair would always pick her up, drag her and push her forward no matter how much she protested, how hard she kicked and cried and screamed. Thanks to him, she had never been alone. He’d always managed to be much more stubborn than her, hadn’t he?

Élise wrapped her hand around him, stroking his back reassuringly yet with little effect. She knew false condolences would not make things better but she was so afraid of breaking him with honesty.

But she had to be his pillar this time.

“Is this what you want? I spread my legs before you, we forget about everything for a while and then what? We gave _this_ , us, a chance but we cannot forget about who we truly are. It’s hard, it’s hard and...” she breathed in, calming herself down. Alistair didn’t need the wreck that were her emotions in that moment. They could never afford to lose their mind at the same time. “And it hurts that things did not go as planned. But then again, we’ve never planned anything. Maybe that’s why we’re so awful at scheduling right now,” she scoffed at her own words.

Lighting up the mood was also something Alistair seemed to specialize in.

Again.

_How did she get his attention in a first place?_

“I’m sorry, I’m rambling-”

“No,” he mumbled, straightening. “No, you’re right.”

Alistair took a while to collect himself and cleanse his mind. He fixed his clothes and afterwards, crossed his hands behind his back, regaining some of his missing glory.

“It’s just awfully frustrating how right you are. Here I was, hoping to emotionally manipulate you into spending a romantic evening together and you just saw right through me. Now that’s truly disappointing,” he chuckled, though some part of him must had been forcing it.

One thing she was good at was seeing through his humorous side – and what she had seen just now was him attempting to get rid of her worries, switching her focus to something more pleasant, something that might have been what he _also_ wanted.

She pressed her body against him, her fingers gently drawing circles on his lower back. Breathing in the same air as him she parted her lips, cocking her to the side; her mind drifting away from troubling itself with unfastened robe. Instead she gave up to his penetrating gaze, unintentionally reaching for his heaving chest as he tilted forward, provoked by her wet lips.

“You know what’s more disappointing?” Alistair raised a brow, awaiting to see where this was going. “When you leave me hanging despite us both knowing how much I want it,” she whispered, letting her hand down and cupping his crotch, where his member was becoming more stiff under her touch and sweet voice. “...how much _you_ want it.”

“Haven’t you told me, just now, I shouldn’t expect a quick and easy fornication from you?”

“Only if you’re being irresponsible.”

Élise parted from him, backing off towards the bed, grasping for the clothing around her arms and pushing it down: not enough for him to see anything beside her bare shoulders.

“You’ll get this one for free; consider it an _investment_.”

Unwillingly, Alistair turned around to grab the door handles and close off the bathroom where Spots was currently laying on the floor under the warm rays of setting sun. He had nothing against the dog, but he’d rather have some privacy – something they rarely could afford, more rarely than during the Blight. “You know, I actually wanted us to go slowly,” he said facing her, patiently undoing the buttons of his shirt. “Try to be _sweet_ , like you once put it.”

“Oh, but you’ve been sweet plenty lately.”

Élise waited a moment for him to get closer, and extended her arm, seizing the waistband of his trousers and pulling onto it playfully. “I thought that, maybe, I could be sweet this time.”

She bit her lip nervously, noticing a faint blush on Alistair’s cheek and his Adam’s apple moving with each gulp. This was a bit ridiculous that after all this time they could be shy to an intimate touch, though she considered his reaction understandable in that moment: when it came to sex most of the time she was the one receiving and it was unusual for her to be brave. So unless Alistair suggested something – which he had almost never done before or at least what he proposed was nothing too crazy (such a gentleman) – she would settle for savoring the moment laying comfortably on her back.

However, lately she figured that that simply wouldn’t do anymore. As much as she enjoyed being spoiled by him, that was too unfair.

That, and there was something about Alistair losing all of his composure; something she had seen before, after a night of heavy drinking which made her not only honest about her apparent arousal, but more bold about trying out new things: anything to satisfy her hunger which constantly grew ever since they left for Deep Roads.

She did not remember much of that night, only the noises he made and how much he had exalted her the next day.

Élise smiled to him, gazing up at his dreamy expression as his fingers brushed a piece of hair from her face and began tenderly caress her cheek. She wasn’t sure if she would be able to withstand looking him straight into the eyes through the whole process but she wanted to try, she needed to see him melt.

And she was sure Zevran had mentioned something once about there being nothing more erotic that an eye contact, as he joined in to Leliana’s impish taunting.

“On your knees.”

She slid down the bed onto the floor, right between his legs. He moved his finger along her mouth and once she parted her lips invitingly, he pushed inside, sighing at the feeling of her wet tongue. Her hands, previously resting on his tights, began moving up and down and in circles but annoyingly evading to touch his crotch. And despite his _problem_ , she continued sucking patiently until he pulled out his finger and twisted her hair into his fist delicately. But besides the touches on his inner tights, she was still; as if awaiting an order.

Élise knew her willingness to submit might not had been the best way to deal with him, she was only giving him the reasons to find her even more endearing, but she hoped she’d have all the strength she needed to deny him pleasure later. She had somewhat managed with giving him the silent treatment after rescuing Anora, was she not? Of course, Alistair had been able to throw a fit himself just as well, but perhaps this bit of manipulation of his carnal desires would have proven to be more successful this time.

_No. Motivation. Motivation is such a nicer word than manipulation._

Alistair took his time to regain his common sense after her dark eyes and the sight of her pink and wet lips had send a shiver down his back, hardening him properly and making him almost tear his clothing apart. Thankfully, he’d had always been a patient man and he wished to admire the sight before him at least a little longer.

“Go on, love.”

Élise blushed profoundly at his affectionate nickname and reluctantly she moved her shaking hand onto his crotch. She still wanted it, wishing to perform as best as she could; but the sudden switch in Alistair’s character often made her so timid – she felt like she might have as well swoon right into his arms, with a white handkerchief over hear forehead in a dramatic pose: it would have been less embarrassing than her attempts to play a lustful mistress.

Yet he seemed to enjoy her modesty, taking advantage and exploiting it with his bold words and actions.

And she didn’t mind. She had found that she liked it: not being in charge of everything for once.

She took it slowly, unbuttoning his pants and trying to remember how she had done it the last time, which was far too long ago. She was becoming a nervous mess, anxious how she should go about it, if he would enjoy it, if she even manages to fit him, if she can get a proper hold of him first.

So then he moved her hands away, bending his knees and leaning forward, bringing his eyes to the same level as hers. He brushed some hair away from her surprised face.

“Do you wish to stop?”

Élise was almost offended at his words, if she didn’t knew better. Of course the man was worrying, always worrying about thing that did not require his concern. If only he cared to perform in politics as well as he performed in bed.

“With all due respect, my lord, but I’m afraid you are blocking my way,” she said, reinforcing her words with a slither under his shirt.

He chuckled wholeheartedly and after a chaste kiss on her forehead he was back on his feet, getting rid of his belt and loosening his pants.

She pouted as he had done all the work for her, and the last thing that was left for her to do was to reach inside his underwear, “you’re taking the fun away from me.”

“I merely wished to help you out. Now, would you be so kind and give me your hand, love?”

She obeyed, raising her arm and flinching the moment he placed her fingers around his waistband. It was startling gesture, but not unwelcome.

With his guidance and support, she grabbed his half-erect member and stroking slightly back and forth, she pulled it out of the clothing. As she shot a look up for a moment, she saw Alistair’s cheek reddening, her touch already having an effect on him. Yet she had known it was not enough – before he even strengthened her grip – from his silent and much focused posture.

Élise sent him a brief smile before her lips shyly touched the head of his cock. He swallowed the saliva impatiently. She took pride in his breaths becoming sharper while her tongue began drawing circles, accompanied by her swift hand still working him hard. Feeling a slight tug on the back of her head, she took the tip inside her mouth, sucking and licking lazily but not going any further. Seeing him tormented like that was encouraging, causing a shiver between her tights. Her fingers clung onto the material of her robe, keeping it away from touching her sensitive cunt. She was trying to control herself from getting between her folds, bringing some kind of relief to her wetting womanhood. But doing so now would probably draw away her attention she wanted to fully give Alistair so much.

So she kindly took his hands and pressed them firmly to the back of her head as her mouth opened wider, her tongue darting out to lick the tip while she batted her eyelashes, urging him to take control. She noticed he had some averse for the motion and she knew it had to do with his internal fear of coming off as disrespectful: simply because of the shape of her ears.

“My lord?” she asked coyly, feeling the back of his toned tights.

“You will be the end of me, I know it.”

Élise kissed his member soft, her hands remaining under his bottom as she tried to steady herself for what was to come.

“Would you rather be attending your duties? Have I finally motivated you enough, my lord?”

“So that’s what all this is about? And here I was, thinking you actually cared. I’m hurt.”

“Let me make up for it then, Alistair.” Her hands desperately squeezed his hips, trying to push him against her, as if her intentions weren’t clear already. She gasped at a firm tug at her hair and forcing her to face Alistair, who’s eyes darkened a bit under the feeling of lust and power and his confidence began shining though once more.

“Excuse me?”

The Warden swallowed in agitation, feeling the familiar pressure in her womanhood and drops of cum staining her lower lips. Her eyes strayed for a moment onto his cock and she smirked noticing how hard it remained.

When his finger brushed against her mouth, she opened them expecting him to shove his member inside. Instead, he let her suck on his thumb for a couple of seconds before he yanked her hair back, looking down on her with a playful frown.

“Last chance, love.”

“Your highness?” she asked, unsure of his sudden issue (not that it affected her arousal in any negative way).

Alistair breathed sharply, his grasp softening, leaving her enough freedom do move a bit closer. But before she got a hold of his manhood with her tongue, he spoke: “say it, again.”

At that moment Élise finally understood her mistake and it filled her with a sense of victory, now that she realized how much impact she could have on him with such simple words.

“Your highness...” Her voice was a mere whisper as it slipped from her sultry smile. “I am at your service, my king.”

She moaned in content as he held her, lovingly brushing her cheeks and hair before he said in orderly manner: “open”. And she obeyed with pleasure by opening her mouth and drawing out her tongue. Her heartbeat stopped the moment he grabbed his cock and carefully slid it inside, gritting his teeth so as not to make a sound and give in his covetous state. He pushed in and out steadily, keeping her, getting lost in her as she drove her fingernails into his tights and hips, overwhelmed by how hot and tender he was inside. She was a bit disappointed when she felt that he wouldn’t even try to push his cock fully inside, but the pace was began becoming too quick for her to rub him properly. Although she was pretty proud that her muscles weren’t giving up yet because of his hard thrusts– perhaps there had been more instances of alcohol-fueled bravery that prepared her for this than she could actually remember.

Alistair pulled fully, his sight foggy at this point, but clear enough to see a white liquid dripping down the head of his member lazily that had been well coated in Élise’s saliva. After taking a moment to shake off his drunken-like state, he brushed against the woman’s swollen lips. Her moan, while she complied, was exaggerated meant to send a vibrating wave through his manhood rather than showcase her own enjoyment – although seeing her half-closed eyes, reddened face and shaking posture he had many doubts about what she really felt.

His slow movements this time allowed her to wrap her slender fingers around his shaft that did not exactly fit in her mouth, and slowly learning to match his pace, she began rubbing him up and down, tightening the grasp every time she felt his cock pulsate.

Despite having her eyes on him for the whole time, she knew how dirty he must have had been with pre-cum already. She could feel more and more of it with each tormentingly slow push into her mouth. At one point during which he had let her take charge and suck on his hot pink tip, she took him rather sloppily, allowing some cum mixed with her swallow to spill onto her chin. She flustered at the motion, puling him out, her hand stopping at working him as it did before. But she didn’t hear any complaint from Alistair, nor she saw any major change to his sensual gaze. So with a small idea in her mind, she used her fingers and carefully wiped the cum up, not forgetting to clean her fingers afterwards with her tongue.

During the whole process she was embarrassed. Not much by the act itself, it has brought some kind of empowerment as she tasted him without dropping her gaze for a split second. More so, she was worried for his reaction, whether it’s been too much for him and he’d push her away. What if he’d be unimpressed. And the longer she thought about it, the quicker her anxiety started kicking in, turning her into a burning and trembling ball, inching away from the member standing still in demand of her attention.

Alistair’s rough fingers around the her hand she was holding his manhood with, pulled her from her thoughts and brought back the realization of what she was in the middle of. She couldn’t quite decide who was more red and flustered. He definitely looked a bit different than before: more in control of his emotions and a look filled with concern.

But despite her momentary self-consciousness, she was eager to continue. She had set herself a goal and she’ll be damned if she doesn’t achieve it – no matter the fact that by this point she was driven purely by her lust.

Squeezing his shaft harder and awarded with a low moan, she bent forward and proceeded to gradually lick off the pre-cum of his member. And with every bit she took she swallowed some unnoticeably, waiting until he was completely clean. As she jerked him off patiently, she opened teasingly to reveal there was nothing left. She was ready to take him in once more, feeling that he was close to coming but instead she was met with a sudden and unsuspected kiss.

She gave in to his tongue in a search of her own, penetrating her mouth deep. She whimpered at his fingers pushing forcefully though the tight walls of her cunt. A sight of a bathtub filled with cold water flashed in her mind before she was pulled up and thrown onto the bed as if she weighed absolutely nothing. She observed in remaining confusion, yet growing excitement, as Alistair pulled his fingers out and smiled at the sight of the glistening hand.

“You should have told me, my love.”

Before she could explain herself, he joined their lips once again while his hands searched for her knees to grab them firmly and spread her legs wide. She moaned at the burning cold feeling of the air against her wet pussy and Alistair’s throbbing cock probing at her entrance.

Without much waiting he thrusted in swiftly, sheathing himself fully. Élise cried out, holding onto him for support although she couldn’t move much, crushed by his heavy body. She was barely able to hear herself through the noises he made as he was giving in completely to his needs. A series of indistinguishable whimpers, grunts and moans, and calls for the Maker, like a winy prayer. And her name slipping between curses she had not thought him possible of articulating without hiding his face in shame. And even though the act itself was fairly short, she was long exhausted by his hips hitting hard against hers and lips bruising her body. She only shivered as he pushed in for the last time, allowing himself to come inside her and let his limp body fall onto hers.

Hearing him breathe heavily and feeling his member still resting comfortably in her womanhood she couldn’t help but embrace him and kiss the sweat away from him forehead. They were wet, covered in the smell of sex, tired and weak – and she was content with it. She remembered those days when they rushed to get at least some taste of each other, barely standing straight after days of traveling and fighting.

In the scent of forest and their bodies, on a hard ground, covered in blood and dirt, hurting and tumbling down they bathed. A bath of love and pleasure, and _need_.

A bliss.

And she missed it. She missed it so much.

“Élise?”

But they were here now.

“I think it’s time for you to go.”

Pushing himself up on his elbows and looking down – he seemed upset.

Nevertheless, he carefully pulled himself out, hissing sharply as his sensitive manhood brushed against her walls. In slow, almost invisible motions he fixed himself, back to her and silent.

“They will surely be searching for you” she added, not wishing for them to depart with any misunderstanding.

His hand rested at the edge of bed and he seemed frozen when he was ready to stand a second ago. She rose to her knees throwing the forgotten robe around her shoulders, wondering if she should reach out to him or let him be. He turned his face, minimally, so she wasn’t able to see him from where sat.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, I don’t mind going into the tub again.”

“What? No. That’s not what I...”

Before she could grab him and pressure him to clarify his apology, Alistair rushed to the door, not looking back until he had a proper hold of the knob. He smiled softly but she couldn’t tell how honest his smile was – his eyes were obscured by the shadows.

“Try to get some rest, Maker knows you deserve it after dealing with the recruits. Sleep well... And thank you. For everything.”

And with those last words she was left alone.

 

She should have been used to this by now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've not proofread the last two pages. Eh.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was pain in the ass to write.

Sweat falls upon his forehead, irritating and inconvenient display of his discomfort in front of the living statues before him, looks piercing and still and so cautious. His hand shaking, covering his grimace, the other hand gripping the armrest – consciously making the grip tighter to avoid getting a hold of the glass of wine before him. And then perhaps one more glass and one more drink. And yet another to pass the time, until he grows too sick or too tired to remain in the room.

The crown itches mercilessly on his head, pressing like sharpest of spikes. It does not fit him, it couldn’t. He should have abandoned it somewhere where no one would find it.

He fidgets in his hard seat, a shiver shaking his body each time he feels the queen granting him her attention. The furrow of her brows is so familiar he does not reciprocate. He wishes he could grab the crown and drive the sharp end into her eyes: always judging, insulting almost, always comparing him to a dead man – a dead man whose spirit he can feel right behind him, the cold of the memory still haunting and paralyzing.

He is exposed. His armor is hidden away, replaced with  _ rags _ – golden rags, velvet rags, rough rags, pretty rags. He isn’t safe, he needs a sword and a shield to hide behind. He is suddenly so small but he cannot disappear and it scares him. He is made of iron and steel, and silver but every metal melts in hell.

But he is stubborn. He is searching. He needs something, someone, to get him through, to focus on anything instead of those calm yet aggressive voices. He needs someone to lead him, now he would rather follow.

All he finds is an empty chair at the table on his right, awaiting, a gruesome reminder of what he truly has. He cannot help but feel every emotion at once – anger, betrayal, relief and longing.

The cloth hangs off the chair and an image of a painted griffon suddenly overpowers him. He cowers and bends in his seat, under authority that isn’t there. He gives in to the touch on his shoulder and turns around, face filled with desperate plead.

He sees one thing he cannot stand. The light and bright eyes of his wife, curious and worried, he doubts the worry is for him – the politics were always her main concern. He cannot hold it against her, especially in times like these. The icy blue eyes: icy like her demeanor, such a true portrayal of her soul. He despises them. His fingers twitch upon realization how easily he could grab her and rip her eyes out, leave nothing but a void. It would be much better sight. Eyes not as pretty, not as shimmering and deep. Eyes that wouldn’t be even  _ as _ black.

The sad blue is too scary a thought than an emptiness of the dark.

And then he snapped.

He looked around once again, the silence surprised him but was not unwelcome. The nobles were as still as ever, like vultures observing from a highest branches in a middle of a desert. Maker forbid he trips and falls – _ he is a dead man _ .

But the seat was still empty and this time he couldn’t do much but quietly sigh and straighten himself, never forgetting of the eyes: the queen’s eyes, noblemen’s eyes, servants’ eyes,  _ her _ eyes. He had learned, and still was learning, slowly but successfully to blend into the crowd, to dance to their music, to move the way they wanted him to see. He was not happy, no. Miserable. Voices of regret and guilt and doubt screaming in his head. But he has been making the best of it, survival is something he knew, one thing that he felt somewhat confident at.

He stood up, much to the guests’ confusion – the queen became used to his sudden disappearances and escapes, that is if she was ever hardly surprised by his actions. She seemed to simply accept them, as long as she got to rule. As if he hadn't been  _ the first _ .

He demanded a short break, he was past the point of politely asking as kindness in court was nothing but a weapon. That was something he was grateful for to her: teaching him how to stand up for himself. As cruel as the truth was, that everyone is out for themselves, he couldn’t help but appreciate that, believing that, despite the ghastly wording, it had come from her heart. But now, he wasn’t sure.

She was playing him, of course. A blind man could tell. But why?

He strode through the dark and cold hallways, between the stone walls he felt too claustrophobic to rest. He rushed past the servants and guards, without a moment of acknowledgment, unmoved by their greetings and gasps or whispers. The walk seemed like eternity, the path was was becoming more narrow with each step but he couldn’t slow down at that point. Gasping he looked for a door, unable to take a proper deep breath until he found himself in his chambers, away from prying eyes and away from them.

**This** was happening again.

 

* * *

 

The door screeched as they flung open, causing a loud bang to echo through the room when they hit against a wall. Papers shifted under the cold air breaking through the window and fire jerked in the fireplace. Neither the sudden movement nor the commotion made Élise twitch even an inch as her eyes concentrated on the letters in front of her.

Upon hearing the door closing – slowly, almost quietly, behind her – she smoothed her blue tunic and turned her head around curiously, keeping her cool.

Alistair looked battered, his sweat-covered forehead shone as he cautiously took in the sight before him. Uncertainly he stepped forwards, trying to make out something of the Warden’s expression and papers she pushed away under another stack.

She tilted her head, twisting the material of the tunic, gradually failing at hiding her own anxiety. She began closing in on him, observing for any sign of discomfort from him. Once she took a risk and reached for his hand, he seemed to relax; his shoulders dropping, breath steadying and eyelids closing before the burning sun rays. He leaned forward and she embraced him tight, pressing his head into her shoulder. The air he exhaled tickled the back of her neck, but as long as she got to hold him she couldn’t say she minded. Until he stopped suddenly, raising his head, his lips, at the level of her earlobe, pushing his face into her hair – almost reassured before he spoke: “You weren’t there.”

She didn’t dare to move, part of her wanted to remain in his warmth, the other part grew in concern. She was, as always, split between submission and selfishness. In some way those two co-existed, what she wanted was in the end very selfish, but in her want she would give him what he, what she thought him to desire, as well. But the constant feeling that something was amiss would not let her be, often pulling her back into the reality where they simply couldn’t function that way.

“ I did not wish to distract you.”

“ So you left me caged with hungry lions?”

“ Now, that’s a bit over-dramatic, don’t you think?” she laughed nervously.

Taking a step back she looked him in the eyes; they were darker than usual, tired and foggy. Moving quickly and unable to focus – up to the point when they finally landed on Élise’s own eyes: black and flickering, apologetic and ashamed, looking away when they couldn’t take the pressure. He tried to cup her face and force her to look back at him but she seemed too lost and guilty about the situation.

“ I’m sorry, I thought… I suppose I thought I was doing the right thing, that it was better if you saw less of me. That it is better if you-” she hadn’t finished as Alistair’s lips were leaving trails from her neck to her lips as he murmured into her skin: “Maker, I’m so sorry”.

She was becoming meek, leaning back, trusting his arms to hold her firmly as she exposed her neck and her chest where his mouth soon followed.

“ I need you. I feel so powerless without you, as if I was sinking into the ground and I’m losing my breath” he spoke in-between the kisses and fixing of his grip. Encouraged by her pleads which were mostly lost in heavy breaths, he pushed the low neckline of her tunic to a side, exposing her left breast. Without much thought, slowly losing patience while her hips shyly pushed into his, he latched onto it – kissing and massaging delicately but with greatest care.

“ You shouldn’t be. You’re the king. They don’t even comprehend the power you have.”

She gasped the instance her back hit the desk she had stood by before. As Alistair pulled her up onto the top, she was somewhat free of his growing bulge, although at the time this freedom caused her much discomfort. Once the hard press against the wooden desk came, she had no choice but take a breath and look her lover in the eyes. Élise began to wonder why such contact has always been this necessary for him. An assurance she wouldn’t lie to his face?

“ And are you included? Do you come with that power you speak of or am I to try and catch you every time?”

She fell silent, like many times she had done, before confidently getting a hold of him and jumping straight into the fire without a slightest concern for consequences.

“ You need not to. You’ve always had me.”

 

* * *

 

Alistair sat silent and distant, supporting the chin with his hand and paying no mind to the nobles scattering around after the meeting. He could hear the Queen impatiently tapping against the wooden table. From time to time she’d turn away from the small crowd and peek at her husband, her forehead wrinkling in suspicion. That he would rather look at a wall than her was no surprise, nor did she care. He could despise her all he wanted as long as he could keep up the false image of partnership in front of the court.

He was the king, nevertheless, and a thought of him destroying what she had worked so hard to achieve – finally some trust and respect from their people and other nations – made her greatly uneasy. He may have been a good man, and a great warrior, but politician was he not. It was dreadful to even consider an instance where he would act indiscriminate and risk their, or at least her, hard earned position.

So far he was doing a great job, definitely better than Cailan. Whatever was happening between him and Élise, it was keeping him sane and composed. He was definitely more self-confident than he was before. She could easily call him responsible and reliable now, not counting his little escapades of course.

Still, the was no telling when he would snap.

Because Anora knew he would.

“ I think I will go back to my study, do some paperwork” he mumbled, as if his words weren’t directed at her at all.

Anora blinked, as if awoken from her distressed wondering and brought back to the reality that was her husband, unusually soft-spoken towards her in that moment. If his eyes were lighter and his hair longer, then perhaps she wouldn’t be this startled by his deep voice suddenly sounding next to her.

“ It’s terribly boring, I know, but it’s not as much of a pain in the ass like dealing with the nobles. You’re handling it much better than I am anyway, can I just say that?”

Alistair rose from his seat and fixed his clothing as he spoke quickly. And the Queen could clearly tell he was trying to escape as smoothly as possible.

She looked around the room, but caught no sight of the female Warden neither hidden under nor on the balcony. She couldn’t also remember seeing her during the meeting at all, in fact, what she remembered seeing was Alistair eyeing the official Warden-Commander’s seat, nervous and somewhat disturbed. It was fairly easy to conclude that she must have waited for him somewhere else.

“ Well, good to see you’re so eager to go back to your... responsibilities.”

“ Responsibilities? Why, yes. Lots of documents to sign and letters to write, you know how it is.”

Anora simply nodded and brought her attention to the almost empty cup of wine, giving Alistair a signal that she was done talking. Her husband has remained, looking confused by her weird phrasing, contemplating if he should ask her for explanation.

But he decided to leave it as it is, walking out of the room, finally ending a day without major conflict with his beloved wife. Although the Queen’s last words she shouted as he was opening the door, made him feel rather strange despite her soft smile.

“ Do tell Élise that I’d love to have a dinner with her someday, please!”

 

* * *

 

“ Last time we had dinner, we swallowed several bottles of wine and ended up in bushes in the west gardens” Élise said, playing with a random rune she found in the study while she sat in a chair comfortably, with her legs up on the desk.

Alistair looked up at her, one brow up and a feather hanging over a letter, halfway through a sentence. He meant to ask for something although he was not sure where to start. Upon seeing his expression, the Warden immediately rushed with explanation.

“ Oh! Not in  _ that _ way. Or in any other way. Or… I mean… We must have felt asleep there. We did bring more alcohol along the way.”

“ Ah, I see. I did not think the two of you were friendly.”

“ Of course we’re friendly. She’s nice to me and I’m nice to her, unlike you.”

“ Actually, I was quite nice to her today.”

Élise dropped the rune and moved her legs out of the way to be able to look at Alistair. Yet there was no sign of his usual smirk that often accompanied his sarcastic remarks. Straightening, she tilted her head curious and careful. “I’m surprised to hear that. Both of you can be so childish sometimes. I am glad, though.”

“ Childish? You think me childish?” Alistair’s voice dropped and in a theatrical manner he leaned back, putting the hand on his chest. “I am  _ pained _ to hear that.” He stood up slowly and began circling the chair Élise was sitting in. When he reached her back, she looked up, letting out a chuckle at his frisky behavior: “I see you’re feeling well again.”

“ In fact,” he continued, paying no mind to her words, “you were very rude today, my dear. You let me down by not showing up and then repaying me with nothing but a tease.”

The warden bit her lip, sinking deeper into the chair. She did regret not going further than a make-out session and a dry hump, and definitely felt sorry for Alistair for playing him like that and sending him unfulfilled to the meeting. The current shiver between her legs reminded her of how she neglected her needs too, but it had been necessary evil at that time.

“ And now you call me names. I’d say that you’re the one acting childish here. You naughty lass.”

“ Naughty lass? Oh, I’m so sorry for hurting your feeling, my lord. Please, have mercy.”

Alistair’s hands rested on the back of the chair and slowly slithered down the chair’s wing to the arm support. His cheek brushed against the top of her hair and his voice sent pleasant vibrations over her body as he spoke again: “I don’t think I can, love. You had little mercy for me.”

“ So what you’re going to do to this naughty lass? Take away my toys? Spank me?”

For a while she got nothing but silence. The lack of sound was uncomfortable, making the situation much more tense than it was supposed to be. She was not sure if Alistair was affected in any way for he was the one keeping his mouth shut, save for the hot breathing that made her anticipate his next move; during that she remained submissive, at least then.

“ Maybe I should.”

Before she could think of another witty answer, she felt his strong arms reaching underneath her and picking her up in a swift motion. This wouldn’t be difficult for him as she wasn’t even as strong as your average elf thanks to being raised in a tower for most of her life. And though on the road she would protest and try to free herself of his clutch, never letting him carry her; she’d have to have both her legs crippled to even consider that. Now his touch was most welcome and she felt as if she were in one of those stories Leliana used to tell her late by the campfire. Well, almost as in one of those stories – his motives were hardly romantic in a common understanding of the word. Yet she still thought it appealing despite his ideas now often being unknown to her (although he always had ideas on his own, just… not this wild). Perhaps it was crazy how much she trusted him, perhaps it was crazy how much she wanted to be punished.

Was she? Was she crazy?

Alistair dropped into his chair with a thud but he kept Élise straight, standing between his legs and observing him with anticipation. Her eyes went astray for a short while: as she noticed his member softly outlined through his pants her cheeks grew pink and she instantly looked away. She could feel his smile as he stroked the sides of her body, knowing well the impact he had on her without much effort.

Not only was she crazy, but weak too.

Unexpectedly, Alistair took her tunic and forcibly took it off her – the front buttons flew across the room and the tight material exposed her chest fully. Before she had a chance to snatch the cloth, it has already landed on the floor, leaving Élise with nothing but her thin arms to cover her breasts.

“ Will I need to tie your hands too?” asked Alistair, acting mildly annoyed at her preserved sense of innocence.

But she just stood before him, in a complete shock, undecided whether she should listen or protect the remains of her pride.

“ I will give you one last chance, love,” said Alistair, lowering his voice, sounding more serious than before and the Warden had a hard time distinguishing if she was slowly pushing him or was it still just an act. In any case, she did not want him to stop.

“ I want to see them. Show them to me,” he requested, his fingers gently tickling her sides from the bottom up; slowly moving on her skin – rough from the shivers. His lips had gone dry from his heavy breath as he anticipated her next move. Although his face was serious and the hold of her strong, the pink tips of his ears betraying his own nervousness.

Élise only wished that there was a way she could show him once and for all that she fully trusted him, that he should not worry about hurting her – their mutual desire to satisfy each other could hardy hurt her; unlike his unwillingness to talk when she could tell that something was off. But that was something she’d rather leave for another time than to kill the mood now.

The Warden submitted, but she couldn’t look straight when she saw his eyes lingering on her breast. They weren’t something she was exactly proud of – many human women had  _ more _ to offer. Then again, human women had much more to offer in many different aspects, she’d have to spend a whole day wondering why she’d been chosen by Alistair instead of any of them.

Thankfully, her lover’s hands were quick to bring her back from her disheartening thoughts, pulling onto her nipples: not too hard to cause pain, but she made a pleased sound as he pinched them. Seeing as she reacted to the sensation, he felt confident to try it one more time. He tightened his hold and pulled again, more forcefully and with a wide grin as she grasped his hands and drove nails into his skin, her head tilting back.

“ Oooh...”, her moans became louder the more he twisted her now red nipples. She rubbed her thighs together in response to her cunt: wet and pulsating, demanding to be given some attention as well. But she knew she wouldn’t be satisfied any time soon, if the man even planned on giving her some kind of release – this wouldn’t be unlikely considering how she had played him earlier.

“ Uncomfortable, love?” he asked, so softly in comparison to his touches that she had not heard him the first time. She flinched when he let go of her, already desperate for a physical contact.

“ Love?”

Élise looked at him through half closed and hazy eyes, proving the delight she experienced from his torment, while she begged him to continue, “Alistair,  _ please _ .”

A loud smack could echoed in the room, immediately followed by an astounded cry from the Warden’s mouth. She looked down on him, her arms instinctively covering her behind like a child would.

“ You’re forgetting yourself,” he said, sneaking his free hand between her legs from the front and pressed the leather against her sensitive pussy. He rubbed it slowly, pushing the material into her folds; listening to the high pitched noises she made reminded him of his own discomfort from the trousers he was wearing. If it wasn’t for the much entertaining nature of the situation, he would have had her spread on a desk the moment he saw her. “Or maybe I’m wrong and you don’t deserve the punishment?”

Élise scratched his arms, holding on tight; but she regretted it immediately – coming off as disobedient during their intimate instants was not her goal. Alistair had always said she was rather expressive, and now she couldn’t help herself either. Yet mostly she was scared of getting too aggressive, that it would be interpreted by Alistair as self-defense, surely making him stop, not for a single session only. He was still shy in ways he handled her, discouraged to go further if she had shown even slightest of pain.

Little did he know how sweet it felt to her. And she could see it too: in his lustful eyes, powerful hands and taut abdomen as he was making his way into her. He could deny it, but she learned something – that power was a great turn on, for both sides in their case.

She cursed herself for her inability to act on her desires, although this time things were a bit different as waiting for Alistair to make the first move, as usual, has been taking far too long lately.

“ Will it hurt?” Élise asked, and, as she expected, her question was met with uneasy look from Alistair.

Ready to halt that little game he leaned back, no longer touching the Warden as if his skin was burning her. But his erection was not completely gone when, much to his surprise, she stepped towards the chair, her chest pushed proudly forward – letting him get a good view on everything he had missed out on before. And he almost missed her voice as well, “because it’s not much of a punishment if it doesn’t hurt, your highness.”

She observed mixed emotions on his face, as if he wasn’t sure what she wanted from him just then. Perhaps he was trying to determine how far he could go (again), but not far enough to cross the line and actually harm her.

He was careful with bringing his hands back onto her hips. She couldn’t say anymore if he was testing the waters or simply provoking her; regardless, Élise was becoming impatient.

“Bend over my knees.”

And she did, albeit awkwardly when she remembered her naked breasts. 

Alistair’s knees were surprisingly comfortable, although a bit too hard for her liking. His perfume seemed very faint before, but now that her face was so close to him she could smell… Actually, her face was indeed quite close to him, maybe a bit too close to his crotch than she liked - not that she didn’t like his crotch....

_ What? What am I... _

Élise froze when two of Alistair’s fingers slid down her backside and between her legs - through her leather pants he parted her lips and only then she realized how wet she became.

His free hand brushed her light hair off her back and smoothly twisted the strands into his fist. He wasn’t rough with her though, at least not yet (she was hoping that would change soon).

“Should I?” he asked and she could tell his confidence was already leaving him. Élise mentally noted to work on it some more.

“I am all yours, my lord.”

Alistair needed a moment to breath in and breath out. He still hesitated despite her consent and the Warden thought for a second that maybe it was wrong - maybe it was not something he desired of her and maybe she was pushing him too far.

Or maybe she was not pushing him enough?

Clearing her throat she looked up as much as her current pose allowed her to. Every time she tried to be seductive to any extent it came out as coy but it did the trick, just like when she decided to speak out again: ”or should I seek my punishment elsewhere?”

Her words were immediately followed by a slap on her buttcheeks. While she did grimace she also smiled at his change of heart. The painful tingling she experienced, after he lifted his hand and smacked her the second time, only aroused her further. Thank the Maker the other elves were oblivious to her bedroom activities - she could only imagine what they would think of her knowing she was giving herself to a human man in such a way. 

“One more time, please…”

Alistair pulled her hair and bent over so she could hear him more clearly. “I do not suppose you are the one that should be giving orders here. Or am I wrong?”

His middle finger pressed into her cunt, rubbing the leather material against her opening.

“Ah! No! No, you’re not wrong.”

“Who is giving the orders then, love?” he said, while he continued to tease her.

“Uh… You, my king?”

Her body quivered when he hit her with enough force to make her eyes fill with tears. Alistair either did not notice or did not care as he repeated the motion. Even though he was not as harsh as before, she let out a moan of approval.

If she were not busy being showered with ecstasy, she would surely wonder how such depraved act could get her off so easily. Nevertheless, she was entirely focused on the regular motion of Alistair’s hand falling onto her hips almost brutally. Her tears were rapidly running down her cheeks and sinking into the King’s pants. She did not know whether he noticed her cries as she repeated his name over and over again. 

Only when her body shook violently and she sniffed loudly unable to hold back did he stop to listen to her more carefully.

Slowly he helped her to stand up, although she herself was not sure why; she must have blindly followed him at this point. 

Seeing Élise’s red eyes and glistening face he appeared uncomfortable, perhaps even terrified of what he has done to her. Unable to say anything more than “I’m sorry”, he began continuously asking her for forgiveness while caressing her bruised body.

She, on the other hand, found it rather amusing and she did not try to hide her smile, no matter how cruel it was considering Alistair’s distress. She simply grabbed the waistband and pulled her pants down - much to her lover's confusion. 

Élise sat on his lap, but left enough space between them so she would be able to reach his crotch easily. Quite boldly and without any explanation she just took out his member out, not bothering with the rest of his clothes.

“I'm fine” was all she said; corners of her lips still up. “I don't want you to stop. Unless you want to. I understand…”

It took Alistair a second to respond, and he hadn't thought of clearing his throat so his word came out as barely distinguishable “I don't want to hurt you, love.”

The Warden leaned forward, still holding his cock. Shyly she stroked him up and down and she was rather pleased that it was all it took for his body to fall back into the seat and relax. With face burning, she linked their lips and whispered “me neither,  **love** . But it takes more than that to hurt me.” Élise wondered for a second if she should elaborate, but decided that she did not wish to destroy the mood. Things were already complicated between them. 

“You of all people should know that. But as much as I'd like you to go on, we can always continue normally if you want. I'm not going to force you to do something you don't want anymore, Alistair.”

He said nothing but she wasn't exactly looking for a response. She just wanted to kiss him and feel him, spend some time in his arms being happy.

And so she kissed him deeply, letting her tongue free to taste his mouth. With her arm on his shoulder she let herself down without a difficulty and pushed his member inside her. All that time be reciprocated, letting go only to moan as her muscles wrapped around him. Her tempo was messy, she was much worse at controlling her movements than him. Her being on top did not always “drive them over the edge” but Alistair never complained. Maybe just being with her was enough for him, she liked the thought of that.

Élise pulled back, realizing that Alistair was again pressing against her hips. His hand smacked one of the buttcheeks once more, yet this time playfully, as if they were back at the camp and in front of their companions.

She laughed wholeheartedly before going back into his arms to tell him how much she loved him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm aware that I've brought too much drama into a story that was supposed to be just porn, but writing nsfw 24/7 is tiring and if I were to release chapters roughly the same length but filled solely with sex it would get boring really quickly and I'd soon run out of material.  
> 4 chapters for a porn fic is already a lot. I'm hoping to finish it in 2/3 chapters. But idk.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry there's so much plot when it was supposed to be nothing but porn. :( I just like writing those characters too much, pls forgive me.

Although prejudice against the elves was still pretty much a common occurence, There were many people now without much memory of the elven slavery and oppression was an obvious evil that called for a punishment. Alistair had always been one of those who openly stood in favour of elves - whether they came from a city or wilderness. Harming others and treating them as inferior was simply an immoral thing to do - especially for such a petty thing like a shape of one’s ears. Some would call him a “good man”, he just thought he wasn’t wretched (and that he could relate, more or less). So naturally when he had analyzed his lover’s words and came to understand her proposition, his answer was a straightforward “no”.

Élise cocked her head and asked “why not?” as if her request was a completely normal thing people have done in a privacy of their bedroom. Though there were many strange people around and Alistair shouldn’t assume that activities they indulged in were completely inoffensive.

“It just seems… wrong. Have can you not see that?”

“Because I’m an elf? If I were a human, would you have refused me as well?” She did sound upset - not much at his answer but more so at his attitude towards her otherness. He did not wish to come off that way but it were true; her heritage had a lot of to do with his decision. There were certain lines which shouldn’t be crossed, at least for now. Still, she had a point, hiding it from her would do no good.

“Did you just figure that I’d want that because I’m a _shemlen_ or is it actually some forbidden fantasy of yours?”

He heard no answer from her, but from her shying away he could conclude it most likely had been the latter; not that it mattered. He was still stunned by her proposition, offended even that she would think he would enjoy such a thing. He wouldn’t, surely. Maybe… However, the thought of her on her knees and…

Alistair snapped and crossed his arms defensively, scared for a second that she could read his mind.

“ _Think_ for a second how insane you actually sound. Think how would the elven servants around here react if any of them found out. Maker knows they already talk that I must have...” He didn’t care to finish but Élise had already begun talking again.

“You could take me in front of the whole Alienage and I wouldn’t care what they think - it’s our decision, not theirs.”

And he believed every word she said. Even though she did take public opinion of her rather seriously, she had little interest in false rumors. Why was she this way? He was yet to find out, even after almost two years.

Élise pushed his arms apart and embraced his torso, pressing her head to the warm leather afterwards where she could feel his chest going up and down. Somehow, after all that time together she still expected him to pull away. She had never been used to such intimacy. Only when his hand brushed her hair and her back could she relax and sink into him some more. “I’m not trying to force you to do something you don’t want to. And I know you wouldn’t do that either but… You’ve been… in control before. How’s that different?”

“As a king, yes. But a good king does not refer to one of his people as a f--” he stopped himself mid sentence and twisted his lips. “Even mentioning that makes me uneasy.”

“But you haven’t said anything.” Élise looked at him, coy and pouting, throwing her arms over his shoulders to bring him closer.

_She’s a demon_ , Alistair thought, quite sure of it too, even though his instincts did not tell him to reach for his sword. _Some kind of succubus trying to seduce me and drag me away from Maker’s light. And I, a fool, laughed when Revered Mother said onanism leads to possession. Well, look at me now._

Alistair pulled his enticing lover closer and kissed her hard.

 

* * *

 

Eamon in her opinion was no one but an opportunist, as ambitious and power-hungry as any other noble; using his dead sister’s and nephew’s relation to King Maric to pretend there was something royal about him. This way he was able to remain a somewhat important figure among the rest of aristocracy but she found out that Alistair’s view of the man was highly idealistic and in truth Eamon had little to offer once the (oh so memorable) landsmeet was over. He never said anything that haven't been said already - his ideas were similar to everything she had already known from her obligatory history studies. His brother’s presence might not have been as strong and position not as respected but he had never pretended to be above the rest of nobility. He considered himself equal on many grounds with any commoner. It was a shame he had to go back to Redcliffe to make a place for his older brother - Teagan was the only man she trusted who hasn't left her side. Yet.

Alistair once had joked how Eamon had made him sleep with mabari dogs.

Élise had not smiled.

Now she stood before him, arms crossed, lips crooked and eyes focused on him. Her posture was not very welcoming so her feelings towards the man were pretty obvious - no matter how much she tried to stay civil. Currently, however, not cursing him with something nasty was as civil as she could get. Sensing her hostility, Eamon stood away from her, holding his hand on the sword’s end; sword she had never seen him use.

“I will not hide that it is rather strange to find you here, Warden-Commander. I have expected you to leave for Vigil’s Keep long time ago. It is unfortunate that you are yet to take care of the matters there.”

“I'm the Queens chancellor--”

“The Queen and the King will not trouble you any longer. Queen Anora hopes that you begin to organise a move to Amaranthine soon. Your help is needed and your skills will prove to be more useful there. The Queen and the King require much more professional assistance in the matters of politics.”

“I will stay for as long as Alistair wants me here.”

Eamon tensed noticeably - not disgusted but definitely displeased with her answer. He seemed to be accepting towards their _friendship_ once, but he must have thought that the King’s interest in her was temporary, much like Alistair’s parents’ affair. She was useful when his own arguments did not work against the boy and he needed someone to side with him. She became nothing but a thorn in the King’s good reputation since then and Eamon couldn't have that: he could not risk a scandal.

“Maybe I should speak to Alistair then,” was all he said before he walked past her towards the throne room, not waiting for any type of response.

It was for the best, though; she was close to paralyzing him and running his own sword into his body.

 

* * *

 

Anora’s study was cozy; tall windows let in just enough sunlight, which was especially warm today. The red and orange sofas made by a local carpenter and his seamstress wife were surrounded by modest flowers that needed little tending and could easily withstand cold winters. The bookshelf was simple but sturdy, made from dark wood with traditional fereldan patterns. Anora herself sat by a big yet delicately curved desk imported from Orlais (much to her father’s displeasure) - it was one of few gifts she had accepted from the orlesian nobility having chosen the piece of furniture herself. And the carpets! They were soft as wool and often she knocked the slippers off her feet and let them rest on the floor. It was silent now save for outside noises. She had her study set up far from the busy part of the castle. Cailan with his own room was, had been, the only one close to her. Now the room stood empty - Alistair passed it once before but did not dare to enter. Whether he did not wish to settle there because of his dead brother’s memory still fresh around that place or because of her she did not care.

She was safe and alone. It was her haven, undisturbed and forbidden for those uninvited.

So of course she was pissed when Warden-Commander barged in, hitting _her_ ornamented door hard against _her_ painted wall with such physical strength that was hardly believable to exist within her small frame.

“Amaranthine?! I don’t even know what Amaranthine is!”

“It’s an arling. North from here,” the Queen answered bitterly. “I thought education at the Circle got better in the past few years.”

“And I thought I would be stuck in that tower forever - I had been learning useful things.” Élise took a deep breath, pacing from one end of the study to another. After a minute or so she seemed to have calmed down and she turned to Anora like a kicked dog. _Her and Alistair were just made for each other_ , the Queen thought.

“What is Vigil’s Keep then?”

_A keep, girl, you’ve said it yourself_ , was Anora’s first choice of words but she bit her tongue, finding no point in annoying the Warden even further. She was neither a noble nor a politician, Anora had to remind herself in order not to lose her patience. “A fortress the Crown has reclaimed from the Howes and now it is being given to you. Consider it a reward for slaying the archdemon - and my task to you as my chancellor. The place has no supervisor, and it needs rebuilding. Who’s better than a Warden-Commander?”

“Someone with experience in ruling.”

Anora sunk further in her comfortable chair she obtained for so many sovereigns that she had repressed the memory so as to avoid the guilt for wasting so much coin. _Pretty things for pretty lady_ , her father used to say as he had brought her gifts to repay her for the time he was absent; and she indeed was a pretty lady so she used her wealth to continue to fill the holes in her heart herself.

“Well… You will get the experience in no time.” She cautiously observed the Warden, trying to remind herself what could possibly set the girl off - or rather who, she had not spoken to her about Amaranthine yet, she only planned to.

“I’m guessing you have seen Eamon today?”

No response, of course. The Warden only crossed her arms like a child and walked away towards a window.

“He is not our enemy. At least not for now. He is just being overconfident after such promotion - he will soon find out that Alistair is able to think for himself.”

“The man actually hates me - after everything I've done for him,” the girl whispered, paying little attention to Anora. She was distressed for sure by Eamon’s sudden appearance. Yet she had no one to blame but herself for this, in Anora’s opinion.

“Maybe you and Alistair should have been more subtle. He fears for the King’s reputation, rightfully so.”

Warden-Commander froze as if she were just enchanted and Anora almost jumped to her to shake and wake her up. The girl was far from being an idiot, but that she thought the Queen was unaware was actual stupidity. Anora couldn't hide her disappointment.

“Darling,” the Queen began, rising up from her chair and slowly coming up to the Warden. “You two are hardly subtle. And you were hardly subtle when we had spoken right after the landsmeet.”

She finally looked at her, not to show respect or honesty but rather to examine the Queen for any signs of anger - she found none. Anora only gave her a condescending smile.

“I meant it. I spoke with Alistair - we agreed to end everything between us,” said the girl, hurried like she felt she needed to explain herself.

“Maybe you did mean it when we spoke, but you did not sound like it. And neither did Alistair. In fact, I remember the agreement being just two upset people shouting at each other, door banging and then some crying.”

The Warden seemed embarrassed by this confession, trying to hide her pink face behind her hair. But she breathed in and out, somewhat relieved that the relationship was no longer a secret. It was Anora, after all, who she was most wary of.

“You've known for so long yet you seem so unfazed by it. Why?”

“There's a difference between my marriage with Cailan and Alistair. Cailan was a prince. When I was younger all I could think of was: I was to marry a prince, one who has been my friend since childhood. Fairytales don't talk about how a prince becomes a king, how he manages his kingdom or how he grows tired of his queen and begins to fuck servant girls and prostitutes in his castle without any secrecy. Despite that, Cailan had been kinder than any other man I could marry and when he died it broke my heart. I still expect to run into him sometimes when I'm walking these halls. Alistair is a political arrangement, I hardly know the man. I met him only once before, when Cailan took me to Redcliffe, but he was no more than three and I've already been a young lady so why would I care about some bastard child Cailan had some strange attachment to?

“I do not know if Eamon hates you. It may be he does. He definitely considers you an inconvenience. With my father's name tarnished I will not be able to be of much help to you of he tries anything.”

“What of Alistair? It's my word against Eamon’s.”

“I wouldn't worry about that. Eamon is not a beautiful young woman with great advantage between her legs”

“Sounds like something my mother once said.”

“Your mother was a smart woman then.”

 

* * *

 

His lips formed into a thin line - something she had noticed he had always done when furious. He expressed his emotions better through the body language, subconsciously. She had only heard him actually raise his voice out of anger twice. She thought of many paintings of King Maric she had seen in the palace. The man's face looked soft, it was hard for her to imagine him act the same his son did despite so many similarities between them. Alistair had his father’s face but not his expression.

Lately she found herself thinking of Maric quite often. It may have been that it was Eamon’s sudden presence which triggered that. She did not share Alistair’s respect for Eamon or his dislike for Maric. True that she had know little, if not nothing, of the Lost King but she had seen his decisions concerning Alistair hardly harmful. She wondered what the King would think of her and her forcing his son onto the throne. Maybe he would have hated her, maybe not. Whatever his opinion might had been it would be enough to prove that he cared for his son.

It was difficult to think of a similar scenario with Eamon in it.

Maybe she was over-analyzing things and this whole internal monologue about parenting for the past weeks was beginning to make her insane.

Alistair’s fingers were behind her ear, brushing her hair - just when she needed a distraction. Some unknown source of anger he did not mention was still in charge of him. She wished to do something to give him a little peace.

She put her hand onto his chest and slowly extended her arm, as if to embrace him. Her fingers brushed against his left nipple, she even went as far as to slow down when she reached it. Though Alistair must have assumed that she did that accidentally - she could tell by his not changing expression - he shivered and his nipples hardened. She dragged her hand down his torso and using his obliviousness she took her time to explore his muscles as if he were a sculpture she owned. She rarely had an occasion to do so due to her own shyness and when he was asleep she didn't dare to disturb him. But since he was awake and so lost in his thoughts, she was free to admire him without the fear of being teased or ridiculed (fears that were surely absurd but she had never said she wasn't cowardly).

Pressing her palm to his abdomen she watched his bulge underneath the sheets. She was fascinated by his manhood and things she could do with it to get a reaction out of him (and things Alistair could do to her with it). Such fascination was silly but it existed due to her isolation in the Circle; sex wasn't unheard of but it was greatly discouraged among the youth. Racy stories were to be found everywhere though, as long as you bothered to ask. Élise only listened to whispers from afar or while she pretended to rest as other girls stayed up all night to gossip - which only fueled her imagination and desires further. To say being intimate with someone like Alistair was a fulfilment of her most dirty desires would be an understatement.

Without much overthinking she grabbed his cock and watched in amazement his muscles tense and his legs spread further apart.

“Élise” she heard him gasp in surprise and she looked up to see his blushed face relaxing. Her hold of him was gentle and loving. Slowly she moved her hand up and down his soft member - if he wished for her to be more rough she wanted him to tell her that with his raspy voice and words barely recognizable due to his moans.

“Alistair,” she said affirmatively yet she did not manage to mask her own arousal. She noticed his eyes lingering on her cleavage but she waited patiently for his order she knew would eventually come. In the meantime she enjoyed the sight before her: her King flushed, shivering and tugging at her hair ever so slightly. She wanted him to force her head down and make her take him in but he appeared to be too tired after all day of politics and sex they had had. He had made love to her for such a long time this evening, pounding into her with all the force his frustration had given him - he had been livid while she crumbled under him, calling his and Maker’s name.

Now he seemed on the edge as he fumbled with her nightgown, unable to even uncover her arms.

“Take this goddamn dress off,” he demanded and she gladly obeyed. Élise let go of his cock for a moment and sat up. But instead of taking her remaining clothing off she decided to pull it down to her waist to show her fine breasts bruised from his kisses. When she reached back for his manhood it was harder than earlier and she smiled subtly at this accomplishment. She meant to lie back next to him but he would rather have a full view on her.

“Show me your cunt.”

She could feel her face burning from embarrassment but she did not dare to complain or object - he was the one giving orders in bed and she wanted her limits pushed. There was something exciting about being so dependent on him; shame he had taken issue with her on her suggestion this morning.

Élise leaned back, continuing to stroke him, and spread her legs apart uncovering her wet privates to him. Alistair immediately groped her right thigh but not even trying to rub her. She soon found out why.

“Touch yourself.”

The reason why her hand was so reluctant to go past her thin dark curls was not because she did not wish to put on a show for him. It’s just that she had little idea how. There had been at least ten bunk beds in her room back at the Kinloch Hold and there were rumors of Templars eavesdropping during the mages’ bathtime. Finding someone to educate you on sexual matters was almost impossible as raising such awareness was believed to be a propagation of sin. She had heard of self-pleasure of course, but had not risked trying it for herself until Morrigan had taught her few techniques; she had rarely used them, scared that one of the party members would peek into her tent should some issue arise (as it was custom). And she was not prepared to explain why she wished to venture into the woods alone with nothing but a blanket and a jar of balm.

Hesitantly, Élise slithered two fingers between her lower lips and massaged her flesh at the same pace as she jerked Alistair off. She’s acted this shameless few times and yet she loved this humiliating experience. Gently she placed her fingers back at the top of her clit and began moving it in agonizingly slow circles. She doubted she was doing anything impressive; Alistair knew her body better than her but he did not complain - watching attentively he rubbed her thigh and encouraged her to “go on” whenever she was overwhelmed by the sensation and her movement faltered.

“Put them in,” he said, suddenly taking her right hand and squeezing it harder around his shaft. Élise was always scared to hurt him, especially there, but perhaps he did like a little bit of pain just like she did.

She pushed the two fingers inside of her easily due to her wetness - they went all the way in, so deep she had to fall onto her side. She meant to begin to thrust them in and out: make an illusion that it was his cock filling her despite incomparable length and thickness of her fingers. She had done it only once before - when they had separated for a couple of weeks during the Blight to cover more grounds. By accident she had been given five minutes to herself which she had used to _think_ of him.

Alistair did not want to stop there and continue until they came. He requested she put one more finger in. “Mine fit,” he quickly added and she could not help but look at his hand and remember each time he used it on her.

Putting on a brave face she slid her ring finger in while he smirked at her; apparently the uncertainty of her actions was greatly amusing to him. Élise moaned sharply and loud as her walls stretched. It still wasn’t enough, nowhere close to how he felt inside her but it felt _good_ \- the pressure building up in her abdomen, his eyes constantly on her and his warmth in her hand.

“Alistair,” she called out to him, subconsciously begging him to take her. She was trying to stroke his cock faster but it proved difficult due to the amounts of pleasure that jolted through her body. She was a hot mess, blush covering her skin. She whimpered when her fingers finally hit the _magical_ spot inside her. Her right hand gripped Alistair’s manhood harder and she could hear him hiss through his teeth. He did not ask her to stop but pushed his hips up instead to get more friction.

“Come here,” whispered and she got up, confused and out of breath. For a moment she looked at him, unsure what exactly he wanted her to do. “Get on your fours, your ass to me.”

“Oh.”

Shaking, she threw her left leg over his chest and kneeled above him. Once she leaned forward - her arms supporting her from falling down face onto his crotch - he grabbed her by her waist and pulled her closer and lower to him.

“Fuck,” Élise moaned when three of his fingers pushed all the way into her vagina; he hadn’t even given her time to adjust before he began thrusting shuringly. She doubted she’s ever not be amazed that she could take so much despite her size. In her passion she reached for his stiff now cock again and brought it closer to her face. Ignoring her ridiculous fears she kissed the tip fondly. She dragged her tongue around it, tasting the saltiness of their mixed fluids. She jerked him off in a similar tempo his finger moved inside her. Élise placed her other hand on his balls to massage them slowly; she only wished she could see his face when he moaned loudly. Holding his cock she put his tip inside her mouth. She sucked him off while her tongue was still moving in circles.

“Élise…”

Bobbing her head she kept on stimulating the parts of his member she couldn’t reach with her mouth without gagging. Feeling him getting lazy from the tension she could tell he would come soon. She laid back on her side, her left leg lying on his chest and his fingers pressing onto her front wall still. He could see her face now - red and hazy. His cock swole and she pulled it out with a pop, some of her saliva dripping down her chin.

“Élise, I…”

“I know,” she said quite nonchalantly, just before he came. He didn’t cum as much as he had earlier but few drops still managed to get onto her face and chest. The rest spilled out of his hole and down his shaft. Looking him in the eyes she leaned down and licked the cum off him. She had not even realized that he had stopped thrusting into her, mesmerized by his face as he watched her doing something so degrading.

She sat up and so did he. He caught her off guard with his tongue on her breast to clean her up.

“Your highne--”, she giggled but a deep kiss on her lips interrupted her.

“Demon”, he rasped, pushing her down to further assault her body with his mouth.

 

Minutes later, satisfied and exhausted, they were lying under warm covers. Their bodies pressed together were naked - Élise had wanted to dress up but he had insisted she didn’t and who was she to deny him that? She let him caress her body with great affection and whisper sweet nothings into her ear as they were trying to fall asleep. But his previous resentment had left her wondering and the need for answers kept on haunting her.

She touched his cheek and called him by his name. The authority of her voice made him open his eyes and look at her; his lips twisted when he realized that they were going to have “a talk”.

“Can’t we just rest tonight?”

“I’m worried, Alistair.”

He pulled away, making a tired sigh and rubbing his face to force himself to more awakened state than he was in then.

“We’ll make this work, like we always do,” he said without waiting for her to ask him a question. She was glad to hear him say that, even though it wasn’t the answer she was looking for.

“You’ve been upset for a while now. I can’t believe it’s about Amaranthine, I’m sorry.”

He did not respond. He just pulled the covers up to hide his head. Élise tug at the material and brought her face closer to his and so he had to let go of it and be exposed before her (which he wasn’t too happy about, lying is much easier when they can’t see you).

“I can’t help you if you won’t talk to me. It pains me to see you hurt. Alistair, please.”

The way she said his name made him weak every time. He just couldn’t help but adore the way she begged him, no matter what she begged him for. He knew, however, that it was inappropriate to have those feelings right now.

“It’s… It’s something you can’t do anything about. And I don’t expect you to.”

When he saw her eyes widen in terror he instantly regretted his choice of words. She probably thought the taint was finally killing him or he had nightmares from the Calling. Or something else, something horrible and equally improbable, knowing how pessimistic and paranoid she could be.

He should had been straightforward from the start. Maybe it was for the best that she had started this conversation - he could just get it over with.

He took a deep breath and touched her arm reassuringly but found it tough to look her in the eyes.

“Anora is infertile.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry folks, this one's short. I'll try to do better next time.

They sat on his bed in silence - she had her knees pulled up to her chin to cover her nudity and he leaned against pillows and a headboard, watching soft freckles cascading down her back. The summer breeze was refreshing and the smell of sex was barely noticable. Looking outside the window Alistair realized the sky had quickly became a lighter shade. It was unusual for him to stay up all night but he wished to spend as much time with Élise as possible before she had to leave Denerim. He was not pleased that this decision had to be made but with Howes gone, Grey Wardens needing a proper place to grow and Élise being unfit for politics it seemed necessary. But mostly he wished for Élise to have peaceful surroundings to grow and gain experience if she were to help him run Ferelden. The constant presence of judgemental nobility was too much for her to handle, he could see that in dark circles under her eyes and the way she avoided meetings and main halls and corridors. 

He wanted her to be safe, even if it would undoubtedly make him lovesick.

Besides, Vigil’s Keep was not that far away, surely the Queen wouldn’t mind if he disappeared for a weekend from time to time.

Alistair moved to the edge of the bed. Physically he wasn’t too tired but mentally he just wanted to give up. There had been too many thoughts running through his head tonight when he just wished to forget himself in his lover’s arms. He felt how, no longer in his view, she got up and walked quietly around her bedside for a while. He believed she must have been searching for her nightgown, too demure to lie with him undressed, even if he himself was nude - wich he was, often. Yet he couldn’t be bothered by that; her skirts were short enough for him to lift them with ease if he ever wanted to… feel her warmth. 

Much to his surprise she tiptoed to him, throwing her arms over his shoulders and sitting down onto his lap. He couldn’t admire her glowing face and messy hair for too long. She hid her face in his neck and pressed her body to his. She didn’t mean to squeeze her breasts between their chests or to brush her knee against his cock in such a provocative way but Alistair needed little from her to have his arousal awakened. He liked not telling her of things she’s subconsciously done to drive him mad with lust - knowing her she’d be ashamed of her behaviour and stop altogether when he had wanted her so badly to continue. 

He embraced her tightly and the friction between their bodies increased. Neither of them dared to speak but she shivered in his arms ever so slightly and he worried she might have been cold. Without letting her go he reached clumsily behind him looking for a blanket but she touched his arm making him halt.

“Are you cold?” he asked to make sure he was getting her what she needed but Élise’s “no” confused him until he realized what the tremble in her voice or the shaky movement of her hand meant. He grabbed the sides of her head and pushed her hair back while he pulled away. There was a soft redness to her eyes and a quiver to her chin.

“I’ve made all the worst decisions, haven’t I?”

“Don’t be stupid,” he responded as quickly as possible placing a kiss on her lips. She relaxed slightly after the affection, but the guilt still hung in the air around her. He was getting angry again. He hated himself for this, for what he has done to her. All of them made mistakes but of all the people making  _ her _ a scapegoat because of his own unresolved issues, because he just had to put a blame on someone else but himself? It was simply wrong. Yet no matter how much he punished himself for his past outbursts he was well aware that she’d remain scarred.

“It’s not your fault,” Alistair spoke softly trying to conceal his real emotions. “Don’t beat yourself over my own idiocy.” 

“I did this to you.”

“And I didn’t have the guts to make my own decisions. I just hoped things would go as planned and I wouldn’t need to involve myself at all. The only reason I stepped forward was out of my own pettiness.  Some king I am,” he chuckled, brushing the hair away from her concerned face. “Look at me now. After everything I’ve promised myself… and us, after all those threats I’m at your mercy again.”

Before she could respond he kissed her again. Deeply, that time, pushing his tongue past her teeth. She let him explore her however he wished, opening her mouth wide. She moaned when his hand pulled her hair back. Her body welcomed his light display of dominance and she broke the kiss to ask him to go further.

“Alistair--,” she began, but her plea was interrupted by his ridiculous though tempting request.

“We could just leave this goddamn place together, you know? You’ve always wanted to see Orlais - I can take you there. I can take you anywhere you’d like.”

“Alistair…”

“It’s not like we’d be missed. We could start a new life. Away from the nobles or the Grey Wardens. Or Templars. I can hide you from the Templars, you know?”

Élise kissed him this time - forcefully, successfully shutting him up. He wasn’t sure if she hated his ideas or thought he had bluffed that whole time. He hadn’t. Whatever she would ask of him, he’d be ready to fulfill her wishes. This woman who had given him everything, her love and herself as well deserved the world in his opinion. She was perfect in his eyes, unlike him, even despite their differences. He had made more reckless things for less in the past and to run away with her and forget all they would leave behind would be a  _ safe  _ decision. 

But she did not want that for them. Or maybe it was better to say that she did, but her fear of leaving this country to crumble and him to lose his crow and her fear of the unknown was much stronger.

He kept her from running off after the Ostagar. Perhaps he had the power to make her run with him if he begged enough too.

Alistair parted his lips from hers with difficulty, his body dependent on hers. “We could travel. Maybe settle down later, wherever you’d want to.” As she looked hopefully into his eyes he touched her belly and stroked her skin lightly. “Or we could stay here, ignore it all and stop hiding… Have something of our own.”

She froze at the implication. Tensing under his touch she was close but felt far and detached from him. Élise grabbed his hand and pushed it off of her. Observing her and lacking words to describe the look in her eyes, Alistair let her have her own space, though she didn’t seem to be wanting to really move away from him. 

Élise dropped her head for a few moments like she always did when in doubt of her of ability to form a proper sentence. He was ready to give her all the time in the world she needed to collect her thoughts - they had had too many arguments due to their impulsiveness. 

“That would be lovely, wouldn’t it?” she asked, and Alistair somehow knew she wasn’t expecting an answer. “But it would just made things more complicated, this is not what this country needs.”

“What about our needs?”

Élise shivered, like the realization that her desires matter only now had hit her. He could tell, it hadn’t been the first time that happened.

“Alistair… I can’t give you that either. My ovaries gave up like months ago. Besides… I’ve never thought about it. Being a mother and all…” she said, half smiling and half on a verge of tears as if such idea was something she took time to consider before and found herself not caring for it until and actual opportunity arose; and now she wasn’t sure if she should turn it into a joke or trust him with her doubts and confusion. “I’m not a mother material.” She leaned in and placed her hands on his cheeks, timidly looking him in his eyes.

“You deserve someone who truly wants it, not someone who never even got a chance to think about it. I was never given a chance: not within the circle, not within the Grey Wardens, not with my mother--,” she stopped.

Alistair remembered then that he had never asked for her mother. He tried to be respectful enough not to pry, though he had hinted once at her family. She gave him nothing then so he gave up - at least he could be sure she hadn’t had anything as “grand” as his own revelation to hide.

“I don’t want anyone but you. And I do not wish to force anything on you. I just need you to know that we have  _ options _ .”  

Élise finally let out a breath. Her muscles relaxed and expression softened. She was still full of anxiety, they went through a lot that night and there was also the matter of Amaranthine running through their heads. 

Alistair embraced her and fell back onto the bed, taking her with him. He kissed her freckled face and shaking lips. He run his hands over her body, trying to paint a mental image of her for the days of separation that were to come. She held onto him, letting out soft moans as he accidentally brushed his fingers against her sensitive spots. 

“How about we just… enjoy ourselves before you leave? And we talk again when I’ll visit you?” he proposed and she slowly began to beam again.

“I’d like that.”

“Baby steps. Like back during the Blight.”

She nodded approvingly and rolled onto her back. Sneaking under the covers she held them up for him and only let go when Alistair had lain beside her with his arm thrown over her chest and tugged her closer.

“Like back during the Blight,” she murmured to herself reassuringly but it was enough for him to lie to himself that they were again two nobodies, spending a night at Redcliffe with darkspawn being their only worry.

 

* * *

 

The air was dry and the sun mercilessly scorched the ground and the pavements. The buzz of insects was irritating without the usual cold breeze coming from the sea. Mhairi took off her helmet to wipe her sweaty forehead. She tried to breathe in but the atmosphere was strangely heavy. The warrior was used to wearing her armour in extreme temperatures but that day was nothing she had experienced before. She stood in the middle of the courtyard, away from shadows cast by the castle walls. Despite all of that it seemed to be darker than usual, even with the violent sunlight.   
She looked up, observing the sky and squinted her eyes at a black cloud coming quickly from North-West towards Denerim; yet the wind couldn’t even move stands of her hair.    
Mhairi suddenly turned on her heel and pushed her helmet back onto her head. She was the first to recognize the King’s voice as he walked beside Warden-Commander. He talked without a pause and hovered over the Warden with a concerned look on his face. Mhairi mentally turned the outside noise off, feeling guilty of even observing their bodies which collided constantly but neither the King nor the Commander bothered to increase the distance between them to stop that from happening. They were heroes, Mhairi had nothing but respect for them. Whatever their private affairs might have been she was well aware it was none of her business.

Lost in the silence she had to take a while to realize she was being called by her name. Without wasting more time she turned her fake attention away from the wagons and bowed before the couple. 

“Forgive me, Commander. The heat must have played with my mind. Everything is as you have asked for; we have enough resources to last us until we reach Vigil’s Keep, the horses are well fed and rested. We have also loaded your private luggage in the back, though I must ask you: is five chest enough, Commander?”

“Those chests are all I've got, don't worry about it. Thank you for taking care of this for me, Mhairi. Maker knows I've been busy since the Queen announced my departure.”

Mhairi ignored subtle smirk on the King’s face. “It is my pleasure to work for you, Warden-Commander.”

“I'm glad to hear that. You should have the stable boys bring in your things before we leave. I'll wait for you here. And change your armour if it's too hot for you, you don't have to dress up for me.”

Mhairi’s eyes lighted up under the shadow of her helmet. She bowed again, trying to conceal her smile. “I am fine in my armour, I have been trained to wear it. Your safety is more important than my comfort, Warden-Commander. Thank you, once again, for giving me this opportunity to join the Grey Wardens’ ranks. I will not disappoint you.”

The woman straightened and marched away towards the Wardens’ quarters to make final preparations for her leave. She was not the kind of person to jump with joy but she allowed herself to make a happy skip when she walked up the stairs. The King and the Commander would not have noticed anyway, too busy with themselves.

“I thought your recruits were  _ naive useless amateurs _ . Is she in some grave danger that you took pity on her and took her in?”

“She's a good swordsman. Exceptional, actually. She has beaten those men down to the point of making them cry. She handles the sword like she was born with it already in her hand.”

“Yes, you sure know all about sword handling,” murmured Alistair, completely oblivious to Élise’s pink face for a short moment. As the realization of the double meaning of his words hit him, his lover was already giggling at the implication, remembering last nights they have spent together. “I didn't mean that kind of sword handling,” he tried to explain himself but knowing that he had lost. “That was sarcasm; though you are pretty good at it. You had me fooled when you told me you had no previous experience.”

“What can I say? I'm a quick learner.”

“I know,” he said, in between his own few laughs before he reached out for her hand.

“Should I find someone in Amarantin to help me brush up my sword handling skills?”

“Oh, I'm sure there are few new moves I could teach you. Also, I like to watch you follow orders.”

“Are you going to demonstrate something now or…?” she began and squeezed his hand to finish the sentence by giving him the idea of what she meant rather than being explicit.

He looked at her then in a way that was very familiar but discovering its meaning took her some time. Since then she tried to recall every moment he looked at her like that, aiming to find the earliest memory for her own sake. When Alistair looked at the the way he did now; eyes dark, body tense and his breath hot and heavy she knew he was ready to fuck her; whatever the place or time. The only reason he didn't was because of the sudden distress of the horses which reminded him where they exactly were. 

Élise let go of his hand and moved away startled by the animal noises and pacing. The horses got Alistair’s attention for few seconds before he turned to her again. He reached out to her while she were still distracted and put his gloved palm under her tunic. Feeling him cover her womanhood she widened her eyes and froze, afraid that if she dared to push him away someone would notice their flirtations. But if she kept him close she’d be at risk of losing both her mind and respect.

“What are you doing?” she asked, analyzing their surroundings, hopeful that no one would care about their antics. She shook when his fingers tug at the laces of her pants and pulled quickly. He shoved the same hand back under her clothes and into her smalls. She inhaled sharply and almost threw herself against the side of the coach but Alistair lowered his head just in time to remind her: “Keep your back to them and they won’t see anything.”

Élise stood stiffly upright, crushing his hand between her tights. She wanted to move her hips to increase the friction but was too scared for their exploits to be uncovered. However, their sole presence in such a public place, doing things they shouldn’t have done even behind closed doors made the cum already drip out of her. 

“Put your leg on a step and relax,” Alistair ordered calmly and she followed. In such moments she was grateful for his guidance more than ever. His fingers easily slipped into her heat, making her whimper quietly. 

Door shut far away from them and she could hear noises of people talking and walking around. She imagined them watching them in shock, mocking her, calling her a whore. She was losing her mind.

“They don’t know what’s going on,” Alistair reassured her. “They may think we’re just chatting about the weather when actually I could be planning out how I’m going to fuck you next time I see you.”

“Tell me then,” she whispered, leaving her mouth open. She clenched her vaginal walls and buckled her hip forward.

Alistair licked his lips. “You know, I find myself enjoying this more and more: how restrained you are. Maybe I should actually bind you?”

“Maybe…” she panted.

“Would you like that? Being tied up…  _ Locked  _ up.”

“Yes.”

“And  _ completely _ at my mercy?”

“Maker,  **yes** .” 

Alistair pulled out his fingers suddenly and became just as silent as he was before. Confused, Élise turned her head and realized that Mhairi was coming back with a bag over her shoulders. Her steps were confident so she couldn’t have witnessed what the King had been doing to the girl while she was far away. 

Shifting back towards Alistair she noticed him watching his glove curiously. He smeared her fluids between his fingers but seemed to have no intentions to clean it off. Élise tried to grab his hand and put it down before Mhairi reached them but he took a step away from her and looked into her eyes with a playful smile. Before she could say anything he brought his fingers to his mouth and licked the cum off the leather. 

Élise was horrified while Mhairi, unphased, turned to Alistair once she stood close enough. “Your highness?”

“I had something sweet stuck to my glove. I’m a messy eater, you see.”

Mhairi nodded in a complete lack of understanding and moved out of Alistair’s way. It was not time for them to say their goodbyes just yet so Élise did nothing to stop him from walking away. The woman wanted to remark the Kings strange behaviour but decided not to speak up seeing how agitated the Warden-Commander was for some reason. Whatever the issues between them might had been - there was no point in her trying to uncover those. They had stopped the Blight, saved countless of people, began rebuilding the country and that was all what mattered in Mhairi’s eyes.


End file.
